#dormant...sleeping...but never gone

[squidaped-oyt]

A week straight of temperatures hitting minus 3 and minus 4 at night might finally have convinced my Venus Flytrap to go to bed

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[seresinhangmanjake]

His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

Words: 2600

Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions. 

You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you. 

The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant. 

Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands. 

Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.

“Where is he?” you ask. 

They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it. 

“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”

One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head. 

“Tell me,” you plead. 

“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.

You throw the sheets off your legs and stand. 

“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win. 

You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”

The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.” 

Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago? 

You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers. 

“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”

The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth. 

The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”

You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”

There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”

Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”

“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.

“What suggestions?”

She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”

Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive. 

“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”

—

He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer. 

He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face. 

The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.” 

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.

You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder. 

“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around. 

“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”

That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”

You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”   

“You just are.”  

“Are you sending me home?”

His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”

“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds. 

The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”

“Then answer one,” you say. 

It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders. 

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock. 

“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death. 

Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”

He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”

With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.

Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”

He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”

An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.

You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”

Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.

You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”

Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.

“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”   

Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife. 

“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”

Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”

Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”

It would likely offend another, but you don’t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”

Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”

With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”

“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.

“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.

“I'm happy.”

A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his. 

You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.

[kiaxet]

HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH

Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?

~~~~~~~

Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.

He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-

And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.

Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-

He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"

Leo is on the floor.

Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.

For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-

"Leo!"

He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"

He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.

This almost didn't happen.

"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"

Donnie almost couldn't save him.

"Grrhh-"

Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-

"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"

And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Hey. Are you even listening?"

Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"

And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.

He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"

And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"

For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-

And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-

Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-

But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.

It's Leo. It's Leo-

And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.

He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?

Oh.

"I'm sorry I..uh…"

He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?

…yeah, it's all of the above.

He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.

It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.

And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~

Donnie is yelling at him.

Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.

Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.

And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.

It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-

-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?

(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)

He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"

The Krang show you what you want to see.

The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-

And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-

But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-

"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-

And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.

And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-

And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-

And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-

It's something the Krang could never imitate.

This is real. This is all real-

He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.

And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.

It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.

His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.

Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?

"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"

"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.

"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.

"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-

Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.

He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.

But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-

Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.

Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.

He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.

Well.

Uh.

"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.

~~~~~~~

(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)

(What the fuck, indeed.)

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter fourteen || lights

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 7.4k.

edited but not beta-read.

a/n || thank you so much for sticking with me through this fic and please enjoy the last chapter. ♡

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

Silence plagues you. Lately, the silence in your mind and around the campus is louder than a rocket taking off, than a crowd cheering, louder even than the endless rambles of your boyfriend. You know he does it to fill the space, though. You don’t dare complain because it helps- god it helps- and he knows it.

Even during moments of silence with no shared thoughts between you and the curse, there was a constant drone, a hum that you had never paid any notice to until it was gone. Every loud noise felt sharper, every quiet night threatened to drown you.

Satoru had taken to humming until he was certain you were asleep in his arms, and even during the cooler nights of early winter he would leave the windows open in hopes that the whistle of the breeze would soothe the mind-numbing feeling of silence.

The silence was surely a side effect of your grief. Although you’d finally gotten to lay Kento’s body to rest at a proper funeral surrounded by the faculty and made peace with his loss, you grieved for the loss of the constant presence of Miriko.

There was no funeral to aid with the loss, as the people who truly knew her were limited so heavily, and there was no body to bury. Still, it didn’t stop Yuji from holding a small event in her honor with you, Satoru and Yuta in attendance alongside him. It was thoughtful of him and though you could never blame him for what happened, you know he feels guilty.

It was a strange time for the school in general. With Miriko, Kenjaku, and Sukuna gone, most curses remained in the shadows, dormant for the time being. Any that dared rear their ugly heads were generally an easy job for the students alone.

You had expected the lack of missions to get to Satoru, but he seemed content. He busied himself with continuing to train his students and, most importantly to him, taking care of you.

You’re capable of taking care of yourself of course even without Miriko, and he knows that too, but you wouldn’t dare turn down his kindness. In the dead of night when you’re at your most vulnerable, it’s him that brings you back to earth and calms the mighty storm raging in your brain.

This is one of those many nights. Not the first, and doomed to not be the last, either.

You jolt awake when Taro hops on the bed, seeking your warmth. Letting out a breath, you try to relax with the pup between you and your boyfriend’s legs and the sorcerer’s arm draped over you. Yet sleep eludes you, and now that you’re awake, the still air grows increasingly loud, like a buzzing in your ears.

Even with the window open, the air is so quiet that it threatens to drive you mad. Pulling your knees to your chest as you curl up under the covers, you press your fingers into your temples. Anything to dull the feeling that drags at your chest and clutches at your throat.

You breathe as steadily as you can but your heart pounds and races until it’s in your ears. The pounding, the ringing, it’s all so much that you can’t handle it anymore.

Flipping the covers desperately off of yourself, you clutch at the wall as you race to the ensuite, shutting the door behind you and gripping the edge of the sink. You fumble with the tap, turning it on and focusing on the running water in an attempt to drown out the deafening noises plaguing you.

It’s not the first time Satoru’s woken up this way, with Taro accidentally pulling you from the gentle hands of rest and the covers flipped over him. The sound of running water tells him everything he needs to know as he gets to his feet, making his way around the bed and to the shut bathroom door.

He knocks on the door once, twice, three times, a rhythmic sound. The door cracks open like a ritual, something the two of you have grown accustomed to as he slips into the washroom and envelops you in his strong arms.

Your tired and distant expression examines him in the mirror. He’s just in black boxers and you’re in one of his T-shirts. It hangs off your body like a dress and you know the sight of you in his clothes drives him crazy in all the best ways.

Right now, no matter how much he adores the sight of you in his clothing, that’s not at the top of his mind.

Like clockwork, he knows just what to do to bring you back to earth. He kisses your cheek, parting from you to turn on the bath. The tap is louder than that of the sink as he runs his hand under it to check the temperature and you’re thankful for the way your brain seems to soothe as the water drowns the silence.

While you wait for the bath to fill, Satoru returns to your side, humming to you the first song that comes to mind. His choices vary wildly by the day, ranging from whatever pop hit he heard the second-years listening to earlier to a rock song he heard while passing Kusakabe’s office.

Today, his choice surprises you. You don’t recognize it in the slowed, mellow way he hums it gently in your ear as he slips his fingers deftly beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He’s soft and slow as he slides his hands up your body and slips the shirt over your head. Every movement is understanding, passionate, and filled with love.

No matter how tired he is, Satoru doesn’t blame you for waking him night after night. He doesn’t blame you for the amount of bath salts you go through. Which is a lot, by the way.

He doesn’t blame you for grieving. He had expected it to be similar to when you had awoken to the loss of Kento, but your grief came in a different form this time around. He knows it drives you crazy and he knows you feel guilty. You’ve expressed to him how weak you feel, although with his new insight into real strength, he would call you the strongest.

Carefully setting your shirt aside, he holds your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. His eyes have dark circles beneath them, something that not even his reverse cursed technique can fix, but he doesn’t mind. Not when he’s doing it for you.

When the bath is drawn, he leans down and fills it with lavender bath salts, a sleep aid for the both of you. He drops his boxers to the floor after testing the water once more and silently guides you to the bath. He lets you get in first before sliding in behind you.

Strong arms pull your back against his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder as he continues to hum a tune you still don’t recognize.

Taking a deep breath, you let your muscles relax in his embrace with warm water surrounding you, lashes fluttering as you stare at the ceiling.

“What song is that?” You ask him when your heart calms enough that you feel at ease for the time being. Your voice is hoarse, scarcely used for the past few hours and you clear your throat.

“It’s that Avicii song I really like,” he tells you. You tilt your head on his shoulder to get a better view of his face. His eyes are closed, but he still takes the opportunity to give you a little headbutt. He feels you smile against his cheek.

“The one that says ‘I could not live without you’, right?”

“That’s the one, baby cakes.”

You smile softly, shutting your eyes in turn as he continues to hum. His voice is always so sultry and you love the way it translates into his humming or even the way he loves to sing with goofy voices.

“Toru, I’m so-”

“Don’t even think about it, pretty girl,” he interrupts. “Don’t apologize for grieving.”

“I just feel bad for,” you gesture in the air at nothing in particular, “all of this.”

“You feel bad for giving me the time to have a nice bath with my gorgeous, wonderful, sweet, pretty baby girl?”

You can feel the way his lips pull into a grin against your heated cheeks when you can’t hold back a giggle.

Satoru can be… oblivious at times. For someone known across the world of sorcerers as the Six Eyes, he can be completely blind to very obvious signals from yourself and others. The same can’t be said when it comes to his attentiveness towards you.

While he may not always pick up on the obvious, he knows the subtle signals of your body like the back of his hand.

He knows the way your brow pulls together, knit with a look of pain and frustration when the silence gets to you. He knows the way your muscles loosen and your eyes light up when he drones on about some story that’s barely interesting, but you’re just relieved to hear something to ease your tension.

More importantly, he knows the way your body reacts to his every touch. He knows the subtle way you grind against him when you want something more. When you want a different form of stress relief.

He groans, hands moving to your hips to temporarily halt your grinding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? How’s your head feeling?”

“My head’s fine, just let me ride you,” you whisper breathlessly in his ear as he allows you to continue grinding against him. “I need this.”

Satoru’s head falls back against the wall of the tub, letting out a breath shaky with pleasure. He only lets you grind against him for a few moments before he turns the tables to put your pleasure first.

One arm snakes around your middle, holding you tightly against his broad and muscular chest. You can feel the way his breathing speeds up with his growing lust as it fans against your shoulders.

His other arm slides down your waist to your hip, before he squeezes a handful of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches when you feel his fingers lightly brush the puffy lips of your pussy. He kisses the shell of your ear lightly, repeating the movement.

You buck your hips, yearning for friction but he holds you tighter, keeping your hips still while he teases you with the tips of his fingers. You whine, gripping the edge of the tub as you wriggle against his grip.

Satoru’s warm and teasing chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Easy, baby. Le’me take care of you,” he hums, his voice low and honeyed like a sickeningly sweet tea. The effect his voice has on you drives you crazy as you moan his name from just his words.

“S-Satoru, please.”

His name on your tongue is like a drug that he can’t get enough of, a drug that sends him spiraling as he spreads your folds, desperate to hear it again. He drags his middle finger down your slit before sliding it into your entrance.

Your lips part in a silent cry of pleasure at the sudden intrusion, his finger dragging so deliciously and teasingly slowly that you arch your back until he sinks to the knuckle. He hums into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin.

His ministrations against your gummy inner walls are so slow that you can’t help the desperate whine you let out. Satoru takes that as his sign, gliding his ring finger in along with his middle finger. A sudden gasp cuts off your whine as your walls pulse and tighten, slowly adjusting to the additional digit.

“So tight, my love. Relax f’ me,” he hums against your skin, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. He pulls back to watch the way your jaw hangs slack, practically drooling with each slow curl of his fingers.

As he curls and shifts his fingers slowly, he knows he’s found your g spot when you cry out and arch your back so perfectly for him to drag his fingers at the perfect angle in your sopping cunt that you think you might just cum on the spot.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you teeter on the edge of release, only for Satoru to withdraw his fingers with a dark chuckle. “Not yet, my love.”

You let out a surprised yelp when he flips you to face him, your glazed over eyes and blissed out expression like a damn masterpiece in a museum to him. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you grind hard against his rock-hard, twitching cock in an effort to chase your release.

His breath hitches in his throat, his hands finding your hips to still your movements. “Shit baby,” he groans, exhaling as his cock twitches again. He has to remind himself that these moments in the early morning he always wants to focus on you, make them all about you. Your comfort, your pleasure.

He’ll chase his release through yours.

“Toru, please,” you whimper, having been so close to your release only moments ago.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he smiles cheekily, raising a hand to the back of your neck to pull you down for a heated kiss. You know from the sloppy way he claims your lips that he’s just as desperate as you are, and you use the moment to your advantage as his grip on your hips loosens and you’re able to grind your pussy against his hardened member.

He moans into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Tsk. What’d I say, baby? Patience,” he hums in your ear, tightening his grip on your hip again as he brings his other hand down to your clit, circling it slowly and teasingly. You throw your head back, writhing desperately as your nails dig into his shoulders, raking his collar bones.

“S-S’toru,” you mumble, your words catching in your throat. His cock throbs against your pussy, pulling another whimper from your pretty lips. “Please- f-fuck- le’me ride you,” you barely make it through the sentence, holding his shoulders tight for purchase.

“Ngh, you- hah- make a good argument,” Satoru barely manages to tie his sentence together, unable to resist the way your swollen lips seem to pull him in, the way you beg for him. “You sure, baby? We don’t have a condom-”

“Baby,” you groan, nails raking his skin when the tip of his cock brushes your clit as he moves his hand to grip both hips bruisingly. Your knees press together on either side of Satoru, closing around him as you seek friction and it drives Satoru crazy, he’s never able to hold back, to resist you, when you make it clear what you want. “I’m on birth control, just-”

Satoru gets the message loud and clear, wasting no time as he pumps his cock a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance. “S’ fucking hot, ah-” his mind blanks when you move to slide down on his cock, tightly gripping at his shoulders. “Shiiiiit- So fucking hot.”

The drag of his throbbing length in your tight walls pulls a gasp from you as you take him in one slow movement, swallowing every thick inch of him. Your body shudders involuntarily when you reach the hilt, chest heaving as you both stare at one another through lidded, lust-filled eyes.

God, the feeling of the pulsing veins running along your walls raw as they clench around him already, it’s a layer of pleasure that makes tears prick in your eyes, the feeling so intense. You almost think you could unwind right then and there.

“S’ fuckin’ gorgeous riding me,” Satoru purrs, leaning his head back against the tub as he lifts your hips effortlessly with his built arms. The blues of his eyes are nearly invisible behind his blown pupils as he admires you, his gaze completely glazed over in pleasure, swirling with admiration and lust.

He’s slow and sensual, not moving with his usual zeal. He lifts your hips again, a deep moan parting his lips when your nails rake over his shoulders and collarbone as you slide back down on his length.

His grip on your hips grows stronger, more bruising, as it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to keep the pace slow, to focus on your comfort, your pleasure. He lets out a shaky breath, his baby blues flickering up to your blissed out expression as he leans forward, pressing tender kisses to your chest as he rolls his hips.

A breathy moan parts your lips when he sucks on your nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened bud before nipping the skin. His eyes never once leave your expression, drinking in the way you gasp, the way your fingernails curl into his skin. He hisses through his teeth, releasing your nipple at the sudden sting of your long nails, but wastes no time paying attention to the other bundle of nerves.

The stimulation of your chest has you growing more needy as you take it upon yourself to move your hips faster. Satoru’s lips stutter against you as he loses his ability to hold back at the feeling of your walls clenching around him with each movement of your hips.

“Fuck, p-pretty girl,” he growls against your tit, nipping fervently at the plump skin. His strong grip stills your hips, smirking when you whine at the lack of friction.

In one quick movement, he fucks up into you, thrusting his full length into you until his swollen tip reaches your cervix as he so skillfully brushes your most sensitive spot with each thrust. “Ah! S-Shit-” Your mewls become mindless babbles very quickly, brain turning to putty as Satoru moves one hand from your hip to rub little circles over your clit with his thumb.

He pumps into you fast and relentlessly, moving his hips at an unforgiving rate as he chases your- and his- orgasms. The sounds of the warm water that surrounds you fills the air with rhythmic sloshes like music for the moans that leave your lips.

Pressure builds in your pelvis as the knot at the base of your stomach tightens. When your thighs press into Satoru’s hips, he knows you’re close. “T-Toru-”

“I know baby. Tha’s it, sweetheart,” his voice is strained as his own orgasm rapidly approaches. “Let go f’r me,” he hums sweetly, still focusing on walking you through your orgasm.

Your legs tremble as your climax barrels into you, pulling a loud cry from deep in your throat as you cling to your boyfriend’s shoulders for purchase, collapsing against him as he fucks you through the high. Your chest heaves, sweat-slicked as it sticks to Satoru’s wet skin beneath you.

He holds your hips still as his pace increases. “Where d’ you want me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Inside,” you whisper into his ear, entirely too exhausted to even lift your head.

Like music to his ears, Satoru’s climax hits like a tsunami as he unloads into you, painting your walls with his cum. He keeps you still as your walls clench around him, milking every last drop from his leaking slit while his cock throbs within you.

Slowly, he releases your hips and allows your body to slump forward against him. His breath hitches when your walls clench again with the movement, brushing his oversensitive length.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers into your ear, holding you tightly to him. Your eyes remain shut as you bury your head into his shoulder, slowly coming down from your high.

When the white-haired man beneath you begins to regain some energy, he runs the soft pads of his fingers gently over your bare back. The sound of the droplets of water falling from his hand soothes the silence, keeping your mind occupied.

You’ve come to know that Satoru isn’t necessarily tender, he doesn’t always know what you need, but he’s willing to learn. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy. You reciprocate those feelings but he insists that he is happy, simply because you accept him as himself. You understand him.

You see him for who he is.

Your communication isn’t perfect still, but you’ve both gotten better at it.

“I love you, Toru.”

His heart accelerates rapidly in his chest, you feel it as you lay against him with heavy limbs. Smirking, you kiss his shoulder as your heart speeds up in tandem with his.

“I love you too, my princess.”

It doesn’t matter how many times either of you utter those three loaded words, they never lose their meaning. They never fail to make your heart falter in your chest while your stomach flutters.

Satoru hums contently, squeezing you once before he pulls you off his cock, swallowing hard at the feeling of your walls attempting to hold him hostage.

“What do you say we get you all cleaned up?”

You pull back to look at Satoru, nodding with a blissful smile. You both help one another up as Satoru drains the tub and turns on the shower.

You rarely get moments with him where he isn’t a ping pong ball of energy or cracking jokes and flirting left and right, but these early mornings have become somewhat of a common occurrence lately. You do feel bad that he’s losing sleep, but you also cherish these moments. Away from work, away from your doubts and your anxieties, just you and him.

Of course, he panicked the first time he woke up to find you holding your head. He didn’t know what to do, how to help. He knows you’re strong, knows you're capable, but he still fears losing you. You already nearly died twice, so even so much as a headache seems to find him in a panic.

Eventually, you found the middle ground. You told him what was going on and what you needed. Satoru fell into the routine quickly and no words could possibly be enough to thank him properly.

“Turn around,” he instructs softly, pulling you from your thoughts. He lathers your back with soap, sweetly kissing your nape as he does so. You rinse off and return the favor, running your hands over the peaks and valleys of his abs.

A small smile graces your tired expression, one that Satoru regards fondly.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, that familiar lopsided smirk returning to his lips.

“If I am?” You respond cheekily.

He playfully squeezes your waist.

“Toru!” You yelp in surprise, “that tickles!”

Your pout doesn’t stop him from grinning, pleased with himself. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” His voice is low and sends electricity straight to your stomach that you choose to ignore as your legs still shake from the sex just a few minutes earlier.

You both finish rinsing off and shut off the shower. When the hum of the shower stops, Satoru mindlessly hums a tune, never once forgetting the reason you’d awoken in the first place. He tosses you a towel and grabs one for himself.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Satoru wraps a towel around himself, his humming coming to a halt as he stares at you.

“What’s up?” You ask curiously, tilting your head.

His smirk turns to a grin as he violently shakes his head like a dog, sending water flying across the bathroom.

“Satoru! Cut it out!”

He laughs wholeheartedly when you’re unable to contain your own giggles, unable to keep a straight face even as you reprimand him.

Using the back of your hand, you wipe the stray droplets from your cheek. “You’re such a menace,” you grumble, but your eyes shine with adoration even so.

“You love me,” he slips his hands beneath your towel, fingertips brushing your hips before he pulls you closer to him. His grin never once falters as he watches the way you try to contain your smile, but it spills over. “See? You looooove me,” he teases.

“Shut up, Toru,” you push half-heartedly against him, hiding your blush in his chest as you nuzzle into him when he doesn’t dare let you go. He envelops you in his strong arms, peppering the top of your head in kisses.

“Say it,” he kisses you again. “Say it,” and again. “Say-”

“Okay, okay!” You giggle, finally looking up at those eager blue eyes you’ve grown to love so much. “I love you, Satoru.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles affectionately.

You lead the way out of the washroom, slipping one of Satoru’s shirts over your torso before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Not tired?”

Your brow knits with guilt as you look up at him. “Not really.”

He nods, sitting beside you. “I thought I had ya all tired out,” he chuckles.

Early morning light filters through the blinds from the window above the bed. A cool breeze brings with it the smell of fresh frost settling on the grass through the crack of the window. You shiver as it grazes your bare skin. 

“You know,” the white-haired sorcerer hums, “I have something for you. It’s… not quite ready but-” he pauses, glancing at the window. “Y’know what, get dressed.”

You tilt your head at him, curious. “What is it?”

“Get dressed or you won’t find out.”

Exchanging Satoru’s shirt for one of your own, you throw on a pair of jeans and a jacket, following your boyfriend to the door. Before he can open it, you suddenly gasp.

“Wait!”

Before Satoru can protest, you dash back up the stairs, searching for his glasses or blindfold. When you don’t find either, you grab the bandages you know he wore long ago, bounding back down the stairs.

It’s his turn to tilt his head curiously now, understanding when he sees what’s in your hand.

“It’s not a big deal, love, I’ll survive without it,” he assures you, but he still kneels to let you wrap it around his head.

“I know, but I want you to be comfy.” You brush his hair from his face as he lets you delicately wrap the bandages over his eyes. You can’t see the way his eyes close as he practically melts into your touch, his muscles easing beneath your oh-so-gentle fingers. You adjust the bandages over his eyes, leaning back to take a look at your work.

With a satisfied nod, you press a chaste kiss to his lips and head back to the door. Satoru pauses for a moment before following you, his hidden gaze locked on you. He knows you can’t see the love pouring from his eyes behind the bandages, but he does know you’ve grown to be able to read his expressions effortlessly in spite of the covering. When you turn to see why he isn’t following, you demonstrate that exact ability when you spot his smile and your gaze fills with the same outpouring of love that Satoru’s has.

You can’t see it, but you know.

Hand in hand, Satoru leads the way past the forest clearing, further into the trees on the outer edges of the school’s barrier. You lean into his warmth as the trees block the early morning rising sun from warming you.

Peeking through the trees, you spot a structure but can’t quite make out what it is. Ducking beneath a stray branch, Satoru picks up the pace and tugs you along with him until the structure is in sight.

Before you, a greenhouse stands in a small clearing. The door has no hinges and there’s tools and tables everywhere surrounding it, clearly unfinished.

Gaping at the structure, you round the front of the building, your stomach fluttering as you see four flower beds all protected from the cool winter air. Satoru lifts the door out of the way before replacing it as he nudges you into the greenhouse.

Each flower bed has a collection of flowers you’ve shown your boyfriend over the past few months and alongside the two blooms that follow you everywhere are blossoms that mean nothing but love. Roses, tulips, carnations, each one carefully chosen to wordlessly show his adoration for you, as if the act of building you an entire greenhouse wasn’t enough. Every single petal practically oozes with his undying love for you. Even the flowers that are wilting from overwatering show just how hard he’s trying.

The butterflies in your stomach stir to life as you turn to face him, stunned to silence.

“Do you like it?”

You can barely manage to squeeze out a single word as you glance back at the flowers again. “Toru- I-” Your throat clenches as you try to hold back tears, cutting off your words in the process. Silent tears stream down your cheeks, unable to hold them back as you stare in shock again at the sight.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” He panics with wide eyes, cupping your cheeks as he wipes the tears away.

“Nothing, baby,” you sniffle, chuckling as you wrestle with your disbelief. “I just- you made this? You built this?” Your voice is smaller than you intend, shakier than you intend.

“Yeah! Well, sorta. I can’t take all the credit, I’m not very good at building. Or taking care of flowers for that matter,” he chuckles, glancing at the wilting flower beds, “Kusakabe helped to build it. It just needs hinges for the door.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you shake your head in his grasp, chuckling again. You had noticed that Satoru had been disappearing on occasion throughout the day, though you had always assumed it was work-related, not that he was being a massive goddamn sap. “Thank you so much,” your words come out unintentionally as a whimper, another tear slipping down your cheek.

Your boyfriend’s thumb wipes the tear away and he kisses your nose. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently. “I know you’ve been a bit lost lately without your technique and I don’t want you to feel like you need to be a part of-” he lets go of your cheeks, motioning to the school grounds behind you both, “-of all that, but I know you won’t go back to your cottage without me.”

You nod slowly, blinking as you take everything in.

“You know I can’t leave the school. So-” he inhales sharply. “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your lower lip trembles, unable to tear your gaze from him.

Somehow, this man always finds a way to surprise you. Life hadn’t been easy since Miriko’s loss. Between the silence, the grief, and the loss of your ability to grow plants on a whim, you’d been feeling rather lost. Of course, it’s not like you couldn’t take care of plants the usual way, but losing something you could do after ten years had its effect on you, especially given that you didn’t have a greenhouse at the time and winter was approaching, killing your summer flowers in the process.

In the span of one day, you’d buried a past lover, lost a friend, lost your passion and hobby, lost your job, and damn near had to bury your current lover. How were you not meant to feel lost?

“I know it’s not super big or fancy, or-”

“It’s perfect, Satoru,” you interrupt him, glossy eyes shining as you pull him down to you for a kiss. Your lips move passionately against his, trying to say everything words failed to. His hands find your waist and he pulls you flush to his body, holding you tightly to him. When your lips part, you finally get a good look at the garden before you. “You’re overwatering them, my love.”

He groans playfully. “How can you overwater something in the ground? What would they do if it rained too much?”

You giggle, lowering yourself to the ground to admire his work. Many of the flowers are wilting, there’s patches throughout each bed of flowers and it’s rather uneven, however it’s clear that he paid attention whenever you spoke to him about flowers. Lilies and Peonies sit at the edge of the closest bed of flowers just as you always have them, followed closely by hydrangeas, your favorites.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you-”

“Y/n.” Satoru’s tone is firm as he tilts his head to look down at you. “My kids are alive because of you.” It’s rare he refers to them as his kids, but it warms your heart nonetheless. “Sukuna never got a hold of Megumi and Yuji is free from him, because of you.”

“But I’m alive because of you,” you insist.

He shakes his head, averting his gaze. “You know you were better off before I…” He trails off, not wishing to bring up how you ended up here in the first place.

“I love you, Toru. I don’t hold that against you.”

He grimaces, his adam’s apple bobbing as he sighs and plops down beside you. “I love you too.”

You know the guilt keeps him up from time to time. You’re sure it’s a part of the reason he seems to work overtime to impress you as though your heart isn’t already his to hold. It almost surprises you the tenderness at which he does hold your heart.

“Did you plant these all yourself?”

Tension seems to seep from his body as the air lightens around you and he details his endeavors with the garden until the sun has risen just above the trees. Although there’s still a pang of sadness that you aren’t able to use your technique on the flowers, you know you’ll get over it with time.

Eventually, his non-stop chatter begins to die down as he grows more weary from waking up so early with you and he pulls you into his lap while you tend to the garden. His chin rests on your shoulder as his strong arms hold you tightly.

His breathing gradually evens out and you’re positive he’s asleep until he whispers something in your ear.

“Let’s take a vacation.”

You jolt in surprise at the sound of his groggy voice, setting your shovel down. “Shouldn’t we stay here with Yuji and Megs?”

“They’re fine. We haven’t had issues with Sukuna gone. They have Kusakabe and Choso.”

You nod slowly. He’s right, a strong curse hasn’t been seen in a while.

“You can get on a plane now, right?”

“Yeah, I-” you hesitate, “-I guess I can.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“Is it?” You chuckle, given that none of the details have been discussed.

“It’s settled,” he yawns, weary body slumping onto yours again as he returns to his world of napping. You blink at him in surprise as he passes out on top of you, nearly toppling you over. You can’t bring yourself to move though, he looks too peaceful passed out on top of you.

A trip, huh? You can’t help but wonder where he has in mind.

–

A light layer of snow coats the ground beneath your boots, gleaming in the evening sunset light. The glimmer of the flakes that slowly fall before you is mesmerizing as you let Satoru lead the way through the Akureyri Gardens.

He seems to always find ways to surprise you, including when he had decided you would go on a vacation. You hadn’t expected him to choose Iceland in the middle of winter, but who were you to decline when he’d already booked everything?

It’s chillier than you’re used to, but it’s a good excuse to cozy up to your boyfriend and enjoy his body heat through the chilly nights. He’d booked a beautiful AirBnB isolated in the wilderness with beautiful glass panel ceilings to stare at the moon and stars before you slept each night.

Somehow, he never fails to find new ways to make you stumble over words as butterflies flap in your stomach.

He pulls you over a bridge, not missing the way your eyes sparkle as you glance down at the flowing river beneath you. It’s not cold enough yet for it to have frozen, and some small winter flowers still peek through the layer of snow that threatens their lives on the river bank.

He chuckles, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as you kneel down to admire the flowers.

“These are Lupine!” You smile at him over your shoulder, tips of your fingers gently sliding along the greenery. It has yet to bloom and though you long to see the beautiful purple flowers, you figure that gives you an excuse to come back someday. “They’ll be purple when they bloom.”

Satoru smiles wholeheartedly at you, the blues of his eyes filled with a gentle tranquility from behind his sunglasses. You return the smile, taking the hand he outstretches to pull you back up. He kisses your forehead languidly, clearly enjoying taking time off for what you can only imagine is the first time in his life. He moves slowly, with little regard for the world as the reality is that it’s just the two of you.

For the first time ever, it’s just you and him.

At least, he thinks so. With his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, enjoying the simple serenity of the Icelandic landscape, you don’t see the way his eyes flicker open. Over your head, something catches his eye as he stares down at the spot you were just sitting in.

Purple flowers sway in the breeze, in full bloom and Satoru second-guesses himself. Hadn’t you mentioned that they would be purple when they bloom? But that would have to mean they hadn’t yet bloomed, so why…? His brow furrows, deep in thought, before he comes to the conclusion he must have misheard you, because the other possibility…

No. He misheard you. That couldn’t be possible, not after all this time.

Brushing off the thought, he pulls back and smiles down at you, glancing at the setting sun and deciding the two of you need to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he tugs you gently along with him. It takes you only a moment to fall into step with him. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re going somewhere?” You had honestly assumed that, much like every other place the two of you had visited, you would just wander until one of you got hungry, but it seemed Satoru had other plans.

He hums affirmatively, rounding a small hill and hopping up a set of rocks, letting you use his hand as leverage to hop up. He repeats the action two more times until you’re standing before a small bench overlooking the entire garden.

A small gasp parts your lips. The view is absolutely breathtaking and as the last bit of light glimmers over the thin layer of snow on the ground below, the smile that plays on your lips is inevitable.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, pulling Satoru along beside you to take a seat on the bench.

He hums as he pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in his muscular arms. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles cheesily in your ear, not an ounce of tension or worry to be found in the man’s bones as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burn as you shoot him a sheepish smile. “You’re cheesy,” you giggle.

“Maybe,” he agrees, a dorky grin crossing his features. He doesn’t care how cheesy it is, he’ll spend every minute of every day telling you so if it means he can spend each of those minutes with you.

“Why were you in such a rush to get here?” You question, tilting your head to get a better look at the sorcerer. With a gray beanie adorning his snowy white hair, he has a sort of boyish charm to him that’s horribly endearing.

“So impatient,” he grouses playfully as he pokes your side. You yelp in surprise, wriggling in his hold in an attempt to return the favor but Satoru holds you too tightly. You pout at him when he grins victoriously. “Was worried we’d miss somethin’.”

You’re not quite sure what he means by that, but he’s clearly dead set on keeping the surprise exactly that- a surprise.

He hums softly in your ear, filling the silent air as he stares out over the garden with you. The silence gets more bearable with each day, but you’ve grown rather fond of his humming.

You’re not sure how long you sit together like that when suddenly, it happens.

You’re not sure why you didn’t connect the dots, but the conversation you’d had with him about vacations was so long ago you could barely remember. There was a reason, after all, that you had mentioned wanting to visit Iceland. A reason that Satoru had clearly held near and dear to his heart as he excitedly grins beside you, his arms tightening excitedly around your middle.

The sky becomes alight, very subtly at first, with gentle blue and green hues that fluoresce into purples and bright, brilliant blues like those of Gojo’s eyes.

Your eyes widen in awe, jaw slack as you watch in wonder as the sky dances before you.

“You chose Iceland in the dead of winter for this, didn’t you?”

Just like when he showed you the greenhouse, you want to cry. You feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you find yourself giggling happily in an effort to dissuade your watery eyes.

“You said it was your dream!” Your boyfriend insists, his eyes glimmering as they reflect the beautiful hues soaring through the sky.

“I did, I just- I didn’t-” You shake your head, wiping the tears from your eyes as you chuckle again. “I don’t know what to say.” Your voice is small as you stare up at the aurora that paints the sky colors you could only have dreamed. “This is a dream come true.”

You can feel Satoru’s cheerful grin against your cheek when he nuzzles into you. “My pretty girl at a loss for words again? I’m on a hot streak,” he teases. Twice now since the green house, he’s pretty proud of himself for that.

“You’re such a dork,” you grumble, your cheeks alight with heat, but your heart pounds in your chest. He never fails to find new ways to make you tumble and fall head over heels further in love with him, if that’s even possible. “What’s your dream, Toru?”

He kisses your cheek. “I’m living my dream.”

“C’mon,” you roll your eyes playfully.

To your surprise, his simpering demeanor sobers. “I’m serious. You know how I was raised.” His brow furrows slightly. “I never thought I would have the chance to do something like this.” His irises seem to swirl like galaxies under the vivid lights as he turns you slightly in his lap to meet your gaze. “This is all I could ever want.”

Your lips part again and you lean in, kissing him unhurriedly, embracing the languid nature of your vacation. After all, you have a lifetime of moments like these to enjoy with him. It’s all so domestic, so sugary sweet it threatens a cavity.

“I think I’d choose a beach next time, though.”

You smile against his lips.

“It’s cold and I have Infinity off so it’s also snowy.”

You giggle now against his lips. He follows suit, his chest rumbling.

“A beach it is.”

He leans in again, savoring the taste of your tongue when he swipes at your lower lip. You grant him access, enjoying the taste of the tea you’d had earlier lingering on him.

You suppose now that you have the opportunity to travel and take vacations, not to mention Satoru’s seemingly limitless sorcery money, you’ll have to tighten up your bucket list given you’ve now crossed off the only real thing of substance on it.

You already know the first item, anyway. A warm beach, somewhere sunny and tropical, with your boyfriend (shirtless, of course) dripping wet from spending time in the ocean.

Yeah, that sure sounds like a dream.

You hold back a giggle at the thought, smiling against Satoru’s lips.

“What’s up, love?” He tilts his head slightly as he catches the action, his eyes flickering open to give you a lidded stare.

“Thank you, for everything, Toru.”

“Mmm, I should be thanking you,” he hums, his eyes flashing a glorious green from the vibrant lights above.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

a/n || WOW if you're reading this THANK YOU for reading my whole fic, it's been such a fun experience to not only write a completed fic but also to get to share it with all of you (who have been so kind and lovely, btw) and each and every single one of your comments make me SO happy ♡ i'm not even really sure what to say aside from thank you so much for reading and know that my inbox is always open, i love chatting with y'all

on that note i do wanna give a shoutout to all of the lovely people who have sent me some love whether that be via my asks, comments, or reblogs, know that i love you all and it means the world. shoutout as well to 🌻 anon, you are such a gem ♡

i have quite a few other long oneshots and short series planned, as well as some drabbles and a rockstar!gojo longfic so it'd mean the world if you gave me a follow and stuck around for those as well ♡ i've also got a very cute (in my humble opinion) sukuna oneshot that i'd love if you checked out if that interests you, link in my masterlist.

ANYWAY thank you and ily all ♡

[zarla-s]

Please don't take this as me being angry or trying to be rude or anything, but this ask is... baffling to me?? For a variety of reasons, haha.

Like, I don't set out to create a "fandom" around my stuff when I do things, I just do them cause I feel like it and sometimes I get lucky enough that people enjoy it and feel inspired to create or talk about it! I'm not really trying to fill a void left by one of these "fandoms" by making a new "fandom" around things I make, I'm just doing stuff.

The idea of a stockpile of interests getting too big is also bizarre to me? Like... for an example of both things, you can watch Stamp on the Ground, it's chock full of all kinds of weird obscure interests of mine I just put in there because I liked them, and I since have many many more. There isn't really a limit to how many interests you can have!

Mentioning abandoning TF2 is also very funny to me because I kind of already did that once?? When I started drawing it again in 2023 I was coming back to it, the last time I drew anything for it was 2009. Twelve years where I didn't even touch it! Starting up again was the last thing I expected and yet here I am!

Which relates to the greater point I guess which is that my interests and inspiration don't just die and disappear, they just go dormant. They're always waiting there for the right cue to wake them up, and I can never predict when it happens. TF2 is the most recent example! But Vargas is a long-running one, I take huge hiatuses from it where I don't write or draw or think about it for a long time, but it's always there in the back of my mind. I went absolutely nuts for it around 2020 and then it went back to sleep for the most part, but I still get ideas every now and then. It's not gone. It's just taking a break.

All the things I like and make stuff for are like that. There are a few I don't see myself coming back to any time soon, but then again I thought that about TF2 and now I've made the most elaborate site I've ever made for it. I can't predict these things. What'll be next? I have no idea. MGS again? StarCon2? Ace Attorney? Or maybe it'll be something new? Who knows!

And I think describing one of those "fandoms" as crumbling and dying is a bit unfair... I don't think of it like that. I mean, I started Vargas in 2003 and I last updated it in 2021 and I'm still hearing from new people that just got into it! All the stuff I've made is still "alive" in that way. I do feel guilty in that transition period between one interest and another because I feel like I'm disappointing people who followed me for that one thing though, haha. But what can you do? Gotta do my thing! Follow where my heart leads me! Not everyone's going to be along for the ride, and that's fine.

(Those of you have stuck around through all my different interests, I appreciate you deeply <3)

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[eelnoise]

in my feels tonight so have some zoro fluff that i wrote to help 🤫

BTW i appreciate you guys so much. thanks for reading my silly fics 🫶🫶🫶

zoro x gn!reader (if I slip a pronoun in lmk!! I'm tired and it ain't proofread!!)

this fic has a sequel!!

Zoro wakes with a start. His right eye springing open and blinking several times to clear his vision. His chest is heaving and a light layer of sweat is damp against his skin as his groggy brain processes his surroundings. 

Another nightmare. 

Flashes of his past - times where he failed or disappointed had long haunted him, and recurring memories seemed to follow him even in sleep most nights. 

It eats at him deeply, even if he doesn't show it on his face or in his demeanor. Years of grief and loss in the face of danger and battle has hardened Zoro, a stoic mask carved into his expression that hides his feelings and serves as a filter for unwanted emotions. 

He has to stay strong, at least on a surface level. He has a crew to protect and a captain to aid - people who rely on and expect great things from him.

Zoro keeps his thoughts tightly wrapped, bottling them up in a way that only makes him spiral further into his own anguish. 

A quiet and frustrated sigh passes through his lips, the hand at his side twisting into a fist in anger when he feels a head-sized weight on his chest and a much smaller arm draped around his middle. 

It's you.

His heart leaps when he takes in your sleeping form. Your face is caught in the moonlight peering in through the window in his cabin, peaceful and relaxed in what Zoro hopes is a bliss filled slumber. 

He wraps his arm around you, one hand coming to rest on your head as he begins to stroke your hair. A soft, lazy smile twitches at the sides of his mouth.

You're a reminder that life can feel more vivid - a light in the dark recesses of his mind. A reminder that even someone as cold and as rough as he seems to be is worthy of love. 

Love - what a word to describe how he feels toward you. 

It's something he'd never thought about having; something that always seemed so foreign and strange to him. Loving someone with your whole being was something he couldn't understand, devoting himself to something other than his dream, and this life of piracy didn't seem possible. 

Zoro would die for his captain. He would and had taken on anyone who stood in Luffy's way on their journey. Left on death's door many times, Zoro could've gone out knowing that he'd done his part. It didn't matter if he lived or died as long as Luffy could live his dream. 

But for you, he'll come back every time. 

He has to live.

Just meeting you had ignited a flame he thought long dormant, the fire fanning into a greater blaze when you seemed to understand him, body and soul. And when you took his hand in yours that one fateful evening, your fingers entwining with his after a long conversation at midnight in the crow's nest - he had fallen head over heels. 

He cherishes you in a way he had thought impossible. You know just how he ticks, and you always seem to be right there with open arms when he really needs you. 

Words don't need to be exchanged to show the love between you - that isn't really his forte. You met this particular behavior with learned ones of your own, forgoing average public displays of affection and replacing them. A simple but gentle touch to his shoulder can anchor him. The quick brush of your hand next to his in passing always has a deeper and more unspoken meaning to it. 

You know him like no other, and he makes sure to show you just how much he cares in the only ways he knows how. 

Zoro presses his lips to the top of your head a few times, breathing in the scent of your hair with a warm smile. You hum even deep within your dreamy state and nuzzle your face closer to him, warm and safe in his tight embrace. 

God, he loves you. 

[marveling-cg]

I can't stop thinking about those 10 years or...

Izuku Midoriya recognizes a declaration of romantic intent when it slaps him in the face with a mechanical arm, and he's sick of Kacchan's bullshit:

Fucking Kacchan -- like everything else with Kacchan -- is complicated.

It'd started off simple.

A text late one night to Kacchan: "it's gone ...the ember is gone"

An hour later, and Kacchan had been knocking at Izuku's university dorm door

Izuku had fallen into him, amazed that Kacchan had traveled all the way from his campus to be with him in this moment

A kiss to Izuku's hair made him look up into vermillion eyes

Kacchan had followed it with a kiss to Izuku's forehead, his eyelids, his tear-stained cheeks -- he'd paused and Izuku hadn't dared to move, not even to open his eyes, unwilling to break whatever spell this might be

Kacchan had brushed his thumbs over Izuku's cheeks, cradling Izuku's face, as if Izuku was precious, delicate: "Let me make you feel good." Yes.

"Please."

And then Kacchan had moved with the kind of decisive action that never failed to take Izuku's breath away; only this time he had actually been stealing Izuku's breath, un-selfconsciously pressing the gentlest kiss to Izuku's mouth following it up with a series of licks and bites that had left Izuku unable to think about anything beyond Kacchan

His hands in Izuku's hair, the bite of his teeth against Izuku's neck, the warmth of him under Izuku's hands, the dizzying sight of him sinking to his knees

Izuku had come embarrassingly fast. Kacchan was as good at sucking Izuku off as he was at everything else, all hot mouth and large hands completely focused on holding Izuku captive.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- I mean I didn't want -- I still want, I mean if you want --"

"Zuku," Kacchan's voice had been serious, his stare arresting, "You think I'm done with you? You think I'll ever be fucking done with you?"

And then Kacchan had reached behind himself and pulled his shirt over his head; stood in one fluid motion and tossed a small bottle to the bed from one of his pockets. "Come here."

Izuku had crashed into Kacchan with all the urgency of years' worth of desire

It had taken almost the whole night to exhaust themselves, and even then, Kacchan stayed and held Izuku until he'd finally been able to sleep

In the morning, when Izuku had woken to the sun streaming through his window and an empty bed, he'd almost panicked.

"Shhh, go back to sleep. I've gotta get back to my internship." Kacchan was halfway through the door, but he stopped to look back over his shoulder. "But, I'm here, Deku. Always."

Then he was out the door.

Izuku'd crashed back into bed, only to realize there was a note left on his pillow: "You're still my hero, Deku."

And it might have stayed simple if either he or Kacchan had ever figured out how to have a proper conversation, but it was always heartrending confessions or almost nothing at all with them. It was easier when they were in person. Kacchan communicated through action. For instance:

After Kacchan left that morning, Izuku didn't hear directly from him, but suddenly the mostly dormant Class 1A group chat lit up

Ashido mentioned wanting to meet up to celebrate some of the upcoming birthdays; Momo thought maybe they could make a tradition of it, meet up once a month any month where 1A had a birthday; Tenya had a scheduling survey posted in the chat almost before Momo finished her last message

Then Uraraka and Tsu, both attending the same university as Izuku, had shown up at his door with snacks for an impromptu movie night

No one mentioned a word about One For All or Katsuki, but it all still felt like Kacchan taking care of him

"Did he tell you," Izuku asked once the first movie ended, "that we finally slept together?"

Once the shock of the revelation died down, the questions began: How do you feel about that? Have you talked since? Are you dating now?

That last one was where he got stuck. He wasn't sure. He couldn't explain what they were.

Tsu and Uraraka thought he should talk with Kacchan, but Izuku kept thinking about the night they helped Kacchan escape the League -- the way the plan worked because Izuku didn't press. When Kacchan was ready, he'd made contact. And Izuku had gotten his best friend back.

Izuku decided he would wait, let Kacchan lead

A week and a half later, when 1A met up for Koji, Shoji, Tsu, & Jiro's birthdays, Kacchan made a beeline for Izuku as soon as he arrived

Kacchan was clearly freshly off duty, hair a little damp, clothes clinging slightly from his shower

He pressed his way through the crowd, barely waited for their friends to make space next to Izuku before he was dragging a seat into the space

He settled in close, arm around the back of Izuku's chair, before butting his head lightly into the side of Izuku's. His free hand reached to Izuku's closest and pulled it into his grip and then to his mouth for a quick kiss

Izuku nearly died.

It's not that they hadn't spoken since that night, they had, but not about them, not about what that night meant. Kacchan had sent over footage from some villain who'd been good at evading their agency: "how would you stop him? the short version"; and there'd been random hero trivia, stuff that was hard to find online but Kacchan had gleaned from some old timers who consulted at his internship

Nothing that would have prepared Izuku for this; for fucking casual contact in the presence of their friends

All Might help him

When Kacchan found him after dinner, chatting with Jiro and Kaminari, and asked him, audibly, if he wanted to come back to Kacchan's place, Izuku had practically floated out after him

On the way over, he could sense Kacchan tensing up. They needed to talk - should talk. But, even Izuku could admit that sometimes there's was too much to say and too few words that would make any of it make sense.

He thought sometimes that's why they'd had such a hard time of it in grade school. What do you do with the knowledge that you and this other kid are permanent when you're 10 years old.

So when they got up to Kacchan's dorm, Izuku didn't say anything, simply took Kachaan's hand and pulled him close. The way Kacchan fell into the kiss, fell into Izuku's arms, like it was a relief, was all Izuku really needed to know.

It was a pattern they'd keep up over the next few years.

Kacchan stayed busy: school, internship, training, recovery. But he never missed a birthday gathering. And -- as they'd done since their second year at UA, they always met up on the anniversary of Kacchan's escape from the League of Villains at All Might's statue.

On the first anniversary of Izuku losing his power, Kacchan showed up at Izuku's dorm with a bag full of groceries: "Stop looking at me like that, dweeb, it's our fucking anniversary. Put some pants on so we can go down to the kitchen."

It didn't stop Izuku's tears, but it did muddle them into something closer to sweet than bitter

It was also how he learned that they were in fact (probably) in a relationship

But when graduation rolled around, and other 1A couples were preparing to move in with each other, Kacchan asked Izuku and Kaminari and Kirishima to help him move into a spartan little studio apartment a five minute walk away from his agency

"You've got that offer from UA. It wouldn't make sense for you to commute all the way from out here."

Which was its own manageable sort of wound.

What wasn't manageable was watching Kacchan constantly try to get himself killed:

Some time during college, Kacchan had named Izuku as his emergency contact

It wasn't a romantic thing -- more a Mitsuki Bakugo was a lot to handle when healthy & uninjured, and while she absolutely knew how to tune it down when her son needed her, she would absolutely flame the shit out of Bakugo if she felt he was taking unnecessary risks

So Izuku got a first hand look at Kacchan's fucking death wish

It hadn't been obvious at first; when they were in college he'd just seemed driven, eager to finish his degree on time, eager to leverage it plus his experience to secure a position at one of the best agencies

(Which was ridiculous -- he'd saved the fucking world in his first year of high school; he would have personal recommendations from Endeavor and Aizawa-sensei and All Might -- but Izuku could pretend Kacchan's work ethic made sense, could speculate that maybe Kacchan had some plans for their future that required it)

But Kacchan graduated, and moved into his tiny ass apartment -- alone -- , and never let his foot up off the gas

He put in hours at his main agency, signed up for work with the Security Office, took on every overtime opportunity for community outreach events

He was always working, rarely left himself time to get more than a handful of hours of sleep, let alone time to really recharge

He started making mistakes

Oh, nothing that would get him removed from the agency or any of his other gigs, but the kind of things that left him taking more damage than he needed, the kind of mistakes he'd dedicated himself to beating out of Izuku in training over half a decade ago

With every injury the warnings piled up: take more sustained damage here and risk doing permanent harm to his hand, one more fall like that and he might sustain the kind of concussion it took a year or more to recover from, another shoulder dislocation and he was looking at permanent tendon damage

It would have been one thing if the injuries were unavoidable, but Izuku watched the footage, scoured the web for every angle of Kacchan's fights and rescues. It was exhaustion. Kacchan was reacting slower, taking more risks, because he was fucking exhausted

Izuku had tried to be patient, tried to be calm, but Kacchan was a bull-headed asshole who refused to take more than medically prescribed days off, or give up any of his side jobs, or reasonably explain why he was driving himself into the ground with nothing to show for it

"Is this what it was like watching me with One For All? Because I completely understand why you beat the shit out of me to make me stop!"

"I can't stop right now, Deku."

"So I'm just supposed to sit here and watch you get yourself killed?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"But you won't so much as take a day off to show me that I should stay?"

The silence had been deafening.

You could call it a break up, their friends in 1A did, but Izuku didn't think he and Kacchan were capable of closing the door on each other. Not permanently. Every time they'd walked away from each other in the past, they'd come back stronger, closer. But he'd be damned if Kacchan died because Izuku had been permissive.

So, for almost two years, Izuku's world got quieter:

He gave up almost half of the birthday gatherings ("Sorry I'm on dorm watch duty, Aizawa-sensei will kick my ass if I skip!" "Big field trip in the morning guys, I won't be able to make it this time." "Nobody told me essays would take this long to grade! I'll catch you next time, I promise!" Please, please, please take care of Kacchan for me.)

And teaching really did kick his ass: he needed to get familiar with UA curriculum from the teacher side (because of the League of Villains he'd barely seen the traditional coursework his first two years), he needed to tailor it to his own teaching style, had to figure out his teaching style, and grading, and student discipline, and managing practical exercises while quirkless

In between all of that, there were still calls from Kacchan's agency infirmary or the nearby hospital. Fewer than before. But.

Izuku spoke with Kacchan's doctors over the phone, determined whether the situation was a send-over-a-1A-in-the-morning or call-in-Mitsuki-now and reminded himself why he himself needed to stay put

That didn't stop him from showing up at All Might's statue on the anniversary of All For One's reemergence

They'd sat quietly next to each other for a while before:

"Deku..."

"Are you going to slow down?"

"I can't yet."

"Okay. Be careful, Kacchan."

And Kacchan sent Izuku a small Deku statuette on their anniversary, one of the niche merch items sold by artists local to either he and Kacchan's childhood neighborhood or the area Izuku had patrolled after Shigaraki's awakening. It reminded Izuku of that note Kacchan left for him their first morning together.

Needless to say, when All Might asked to meet him after class he couldn't have begun to expect The Suit.

"Explain. What do you mean Kacchan...and 1A? Explain."

All Might wasn't sure how long Kacchan and Hatsume had been working on the idea, but sometime before college graduation their near complete prototype had been completely destroyed during testing

This is when Kacchan had reached out to All Might and the Security Office: If the SO could hire Hatsume and fund the most basic form of the suit, they'd be able to use it to allow disabled heroes with valuable experience (All Might, Hawks, Mirko, etc) back in the field, even if just in the capacity to train young heroes; Kacchan would continue funding the unique features he wanted for specifically for Izuku's

As Kacchan had already funded the basis of the suit's research and the SO had already been looking to recruit Hatsume, they'd been able to solidify the deal

But, the materials needed to make the suit as safe as necessary were expensive, even with folks like Jeanist (who'd created a new fiber for the undersuit that would afford Izuku more protection should a battery explode, etc) volunteering their time for free

Around that time, class 1A had had the.....opportunity to confront Kacchan without Izuku present

Once they understood what Kacchan was up to, they created a fund to support the completion of the suit

Izuku had struggled then. He knew his eyes were leaking, but he didn't have time for the breakdown this deserved, because he needed to be across town. He needed to see Kacchan's stupid, beautiful, infuriating face.

He barely remembered leaving All Might (he would call him later with a proper thank you); he booked a rideshare, plugged in Kacchan's location (they'd started sharing it in 2nd year at UA -- "I'm not gonna be stressed that you've gotten yourself caught up in some mess without backup. What if the ember burns out mid-reckless decision? Share your location, nerd.") and spent the next 30 minutes trying to understand it all

Why Kacchan had been so hellbent on working all the time, why it had all gotten so much worse after graduation, the desperation he'd had to continue. "I can't yet."

After 20+ years of friendship, it finally struck Izuku that Kacchan was always telling him the important things in fucking decade old callbacks

"You were looking down on me, you thought you were better than me." That fight at Ground Beta revealing some long held misperception.

And now, he was thrown back to a hospital bed the day One For All died: "I thought I'd be on your heels for the rest of our lives."

Izuku had tried so hard then not to read into that. Had tried not to read into a simple statement more than Kacchan could possibly have been trying to say.

But, fuck that.

The car stopped before Izuku could work himself from incensed muttering to a full body scream

He was shocked to find himself in front of Kacchan's apartment, but the little blue bubble on the map indicated that Kacchan (or his phone at least) was in fact in the building in front of him

It was rare for Kacchan to actually be home, he usually just caught naps at his agency unless he was taking a rare 24 hours or more off

Izuku couldn't care about any of it. He quickly coded into the building and made his way up to Kacchan's room. He couldn't sort himself out enough to find the key and so instead spent 20 seconds banging loud enough on Kacchan's door to probably alarm the neighbors.

Kacchan answered the door groggy and gorgeous, but the bags under his eyes were a reminder of why Izuku was here

"Why, Kacchan?"

It took him a moment to respond. "All Might told you?" And then, after Izuku nodded, "What the fuck do you mean 'why'?"

"Why do all of this? Why work so hard just for --"

"Just for the person who gave their fucking everything to save the entire world? To give something back to the person entire governments were content to let take the fall for their failures? I don't know Deku. Maybe I wasn't content to watch the one person who did nothing wrong lose the one thing he wanted most. Maybe I wasn't okay with that karmic injustice. So I did something about it. Because you're worth more than being relegated to the sidelines."

Fuck

Whatever anger or confusion had been holding back the swell of Izuku's tears broke then in the face of Kacchan's sincerity

Izuku barely registered the door closing as Kacchan pulled Izuku out of the hallway and into his arms

Izuku cried. For a long time. For the unfairness he rarely let himself acknowledge. For the way Kacchan, as always, had identified the problem and started working on the solution before Izuku had even finished processing. For the way the burden of fixing everything always seemed to fall on them. For the time they'd lost. For the time they would continue to lose if Izuku couldn't find the courage to speak.

He braced himself against Kacchan's shoulder because facing Kacchan had always given him strength: "I love you, Katsuki Bakugo. A decade ago you told me about a future you'd imagined. A future for the both of us. Together. If this -- if all of this -- wasn't about us and forever, can you tell me now so I can try and find away to kill this hope?"

"Deku, shit --" here Kacchan pulled him closer, a hand to the back of Izuku's neck, the other finding Izuku's hand to lace their fingers together. "Yeah, this is about...us. Forever."

Izuku moved then, bodying Kacchan into the couch, pressing himself into Kacchan's chest

"Good. That's good. I'm moving in. But not here. We're finding a place where our bed isn't the living room and the bathroom isn't next to the pantry."

"Tell me how you really feel, asshole." Said so warmly as to be an endearment.

"And you're taking time off. Real time. And dropping at least one job."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, Kacchan."

"Pushy."

"You spent the better parts of the last decade working to get just this -- so you'll deal with it."

"Yeah I did." Kacchan ran a hand through Izuku's hair. "What else?"

"Whatever else is left to pay for, it's mine. I've been getting paid to live in the teacher's dorm for the last three years. I've got savings --"

"It's done, Deku. It's all -- with everyone chipping in, especially Todoroki with his dad's guilt money -- it's all taken care of."

"Huh. Okay. But repairs are mine. If the Security Office or our agency or whatever can't cover it, it's mine. You've done enough."

"Mm, maybe."

"No, Kacchan. I'm serious. I need you to rest. I need you to take care of yourself. Let me worry about me for a little. What would have been the point if you burn yourself out just as I'm getting started. I want what you said. Us. Together. Flawless victories."

AND THEN THEY HEROED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

[tamiart]

I wrote a little romance scene between Halsin and Tav, mostly imagining Halsin’s POV.

Summary: Tav is breaking down under the pressure of the enormous task ahead of her, and Halsin happens upon her.

Since I don’t consider myself a writer, I have never tried to write anything like this before. But I love this game so much, and especially when it comes to these two characters, my imagination is continuously running away with me. I need more material with them, so I tried to create some of my own. I hope you like it.

Midnight Solace

Everyone was finishing up their duties in setting up camp. Halsin looked over to see Tav talking to Wyll and Gale, who were arguing about something as they tried to come up with a strategy for some fight or other, which was now an almost daily occurrence. Tav looked worn out, barely listening to the two of them bicker as she studied a map they had drawn in the dirt. The others were always going to her for help with their problems, and by Silvanus did everyone in this group have catastrophic problems. In all his many years, Halsin had never met such a varied, volatile bunch of individuals. They reminded him of his younger years when every mishap, every mistake, felt like the end of the world.

Tav was the most intriguing to him. She couldn’t be half his age, and yet this young, unassuming slip of a girl had gone out of her way, putting aside her own troubles and fears, which must be plentiful though she never voiced them, for weeks throughout their perilous journey to help many along the way, including himself. She was helping him find a way to lift the shadow curse, which had haunted him for a century as his greatest shame and failure. She had risked her life to infiltrate a horde of nasty, treacherous little goblins to free him - a huge, threatening wild bear that could have tried to kill her too for all she knew. But even in his most savage form, she wasn’t afraid of him. 

Halsin had never met anyone like her. He often found himself watching her from across camp as she went about the daily routine that everyone had settled into - helping to prepare their meals, eating, talking and laughing with everyone around the fire, getting ready to go to sleep, preparing to head out in the mornings. He wondered about her as he performed his own duties. He felt himself drawn to her, and realized he was reluctant to leave her side. He was sorely tempted to forsake his druidic duties and stay with her, to be there for her and protect her for as long as she would let him during her quest to save them all. She stirred long-dormant feelings in him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about anyone.

Later that night, after everyone had sought their bedrolls, rest seemed to elude Halsin, so he gave up and headed towards the woods to lose himself in a hunt. As he walked past Tav’s bedroll, he noticed she wasn’t there. He looked around briefly, but did not see her. Slightly alarmed, he enhanced his senses and picked up her scent trail heading into the forest. Wanting to make sure she was alright, he followed it.

As he approached the stream nearby, he heard the sound of someone crying. He stopped and peered through the trees in that direction and saw that it was Tav, sitting by the water, her head resting on her bent knees. He felt a sympathetic pang to see and hear her so distraught. Not wanting to frighten her, he made his footsteps audible as he rounded a bush and approached her, and she started up and noticed him, and immediately turned away to surreptitiously wipe away the traces of her misery. He felt his heart stir.

“Oh, Halsin,” she said, “what are you doing out here so late?”

“I could not sleep,” he responded, “so I was going for a walk. I could ask you the same thing. Are you alright, my friend?”

At that, she failed at reigning in her emotions and burst into sobs once more.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered through her tears. “I don’t know what’s come over me tonight.”

He hurried over and sat beside her. “It’s alright,” he tried to reassure her. But she could not stop, and he hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder.

His touch seemed to relax something in her and she leaned towards him. He put his arm around her and held her closer. The feel of her sobs shaking her slight frame melted away his final resistance, and he knew then that he would do anything to help this girl. He was lost to her. He held her until her sobs quieted into sniffles. 

“What is it, my friend? Can I do anything to help?” He asked her gently.

“No, I’ll be okay.” She sighed.”Ugh look at me, I’m such a mess.”

“You are still beautiful. But stay here, I’ll get something for you.” Halsin quietly returned to his tent and found a clean cloth, poured a cup of water and grabbed a blanket as well, then returned to Tav’s side. She had calmed down and sat quietly staring into the stream with a troubled expression on her face. He draped the blanket around her shoulders and handed her the water and cloth.

 “Thank you. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this,” said Tav, wiping her tear-stained face. “They’re all depending on me to be strong. I need to be strong for all of us if we’re going to get through this.” She took a sip of water and put the cup down on a rock.

He placed his arm around her again and pulled her close. “No one expects you to be invincible. You don’t need to carry all of it alone. We’re all here to help you. I’m here to help you.”

She looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyelashes. The distance between them was too close. The urge to kiss her was overpowering, and it took all of his will to resist. She needed him to be strong just now, and he would give her his support.

“Thanks, Halsin,” She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “That’s nice to hear. I just… I’m so afraid. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. Why does every decision have to fall to me? Every time one of us gets injured, I wonder if I should give it all up. Maybe I’m just leading us all to our deaths.” Her voice choked on those last words, and she covered her face with her hands and pulled away from him. “I can’t… that thought… it’s too much to bear.”

“Your fears are completely understandable under the circumstances. We have far too much leveled against us, with no end to our journey in sight. What an incredible amount of pressure to undertake. But Tav, you’ve been amazing thus far. Why do you think everyone trusts you so implicitly? No one else could have gotten this eccentric group of misfits this far, to survive as much as we have. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed it. You don’t realize how extraordinary you truly are. My dear friend, we would all follow you anywhere. I would follow you anywhere. If anyone is going to get us all through this, it’s you.” 

Tav looked up at him again, a new light and curiosity in her glance. “You truly believe that?”

“With all my heart.”

Suddenly she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Oak father preserve him, Tav had him wrapped around her finger. “Thanks, Halsin,” she whispered into him. She looked up at him again, and her face finally softened into a smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Tav, I - “ he tried to find the right words. “Please know that I’m always here for you, if you ever need to talk about anything. I will do my best to help you, in any way that you need.”

She was still looking up at him, her gaze searching. She was so beautiful, he could hold back no longer. Cautiously, he lowered his face down towards her, watching her expression as he did so. She did not pull away, and her lips parted as her glance fell to his mouth. He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted the salt of her tears as he kissed her, and she kissed him back, tentatively at first, but quickly growing more eager. Her lips were full, soft and warm. Finally they both had to pull away, gasping for air. He had to stop now before he took things too far. He couldn’t ask that much of her just now in her current vulnerable state.

Tav stared at him, stunned. Then as if suddenly realizing where she was, she blushed and gave him a shy, tentative smile. “Wow,” She gasped as she found her voice. “What was that?”

“I’ve dreamed about kissing you for a long time,” he confessed to her.

“Really? But I didn’t… I thought… you’ve never…” Tav stammered.

“I know. I didn’t want to do anything to upset you or harm our friendship. And I didn’t want to distract you during such a crucial and difficult time. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, to let you focus.”

Tave let out a breathy laugh. “Well, it’s a very welcome distraction.” She hesitated, then looked up at him shyly once more. “I’ve been thinking about that as well, with you.”

He wrapped her in his arms once more and held her in silence. They sat together, listening to the night sounds of the forest and the babble of the nearby stream. Gradually, he felt her relax in his arms. Her head began to droop against his shoulder. He could have stayed this way all night. But reluctantly, he gently shook her awake.

“You should try to get some sleep,” he told her. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

She sighed. “You’re right.” She stood up and handed the blanket back to him. She tried to return the cloth as well, but he told her to keep it. She seemed reluctant to go. “Thank you, Halsin. This was… it means a lot.” She smiled at him once more.

And she was gone before he could respond, leaving him alone once more in the woods, the blanket in his arms, all of his senses full of her, and his mind a whirl of thoughts, emotions and desires.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Macaque, out of the blue one day: *bolting up from sleep* Wait... Wukogn lsot his memory! He doesn't know about a Stone Monkey can become eggbound!!

What Macaque had not known and later learned when he explained to a very red in the face Peaches and MK was that Wukong had, on fact, been egg bound once before. He just lost the baby before he ever had a chance to learn about it during the Samhadi Fire ritual. This is a major reason why the Demon Bull Clan had not freaked vengeance upon Wukong and instead allowed him to go back into isolation after he sealed DBK.

Ooof yeah XD

Macaque bolts awake realising that Peaches & MK are one wrong mud bath away from mitosis.

We have discussed in DM's the possibility of Wukong becoming Stone Egg'ed because ofthe Mountain... but losing the Egg during the Samadhi Fire Ritual.

DBK and PIF only realised afterwards what had happened and are mortified to this day. Sun Wukong was willing to gamble and lost his own child, in order to save Red Son. It's a major reason why PIF never tried seeking venegance in the years after DBK's imprisonment. She just couldn't bare to hurt someone who had sacrificed so much for her baby.

Wukong became a shut-in after the Ritual; believing he had harmed not only his brothers (Ao Lie), his mate (Macaque), but even his unborn child.

Then he found "The Fragment" where his own Egg once stood. And he just knew what it was instantly.

(Heck maybe MK's Fragment is the "lost" Stone Egg, having survived the fire but gone dormant for the longest time)

Then the Mayor got involved with his vial of Meng Po's Soup...

Pigsy and Tang hadn't forced the issue when the doctors found signs of a past pregnancy on "Peaches" body. It was probably why he had baby Xiaotian. They didn't want to think of any other possibility.

Macaque I feel would have died/been dragged into the Underworld realising that Wukong was carrying. And when he returns and sees MK; his brain did a small misfire thinking this was the Egg all grown up.

Until the Winds (and PIF) tell him the sad truth...

I think he'd only tell Peaches of his lost Egg if the ginger monkey pressed the issue. Or if he had explained the basics of Solo-Stone Egg reproduction, and Pigsy and Tang jumped up with a million horrified questions/revelations about Peaches' medical record.

Macaque would be more determined to keep the Samadhi Fire out of Wukong/Peaches' hands, knowing that IT was what took their the Egg.

And Peaches... might not care to warn the others of this fact. He needs to save the world and destroy LBD. If he has sacrificed so much before, why not try again and take the burden of the Fire?

When the reforging turns put to be a crapshoot; Peaches gets screamed at by not only his family, former mate/current crush, his school friend aka Nezha, Mei, but also the entire Demon Bull Family - who charged over to join the gang at the Ritual site to prevent Wukong from killing part of himself once more.

This family is united by Peaches/Wukong's senselessly self-sacrifical nature + them trying to stop him from doing it.

[avonne-writes]

I'm re-reading Reverie and noticed that, while it's all from Bucky's perspective, it seems like Gale wasn't surprised to find out when he was thirteen/fourteen that his soulmate was another boy. Did he already have an inkling that his soulmate would have the same gender as him? Because his internal conflict seemed to be fear that his soulmate would never really love him.

Hi dear, I’m so glad you're rereading it! 🩷

Great observation! Yes, Gale had an inkling that it would be a boy.

He realized some time earlier that he was more interested in other boys than in girls. This realization made his already existing fear that he’s unlovable even worse. He figured his soulmate would be disappointed or even disgusted to have a same-sex bond and would hate him and they would never get close because soulmate bonds don’t account for society's expectations, and of course everyone expects a romantic bond.

As is usual for Gale, he prepared excessively for his first meeting with his soulmate and wanted to play things cool if it turned out to be a boy indeed. Due to his fear of what we would now call homophobia, he didn’t want to go into his soulmate's dreams, wanted his soulmate to come to him because he would be more in control then and his soulmate wouldn’t get angry that another boy went inside his mind. So, when they first connected to each other, he kept sending Bucky clues and waited. His first clues were Hershey chocolate bars because he rarely got any as a kid but he loved them.

When Bucky finally came to him, he forgot all his practiced lines and blurted out the first thing that came to him, "what took you so long?" Then, Bucky disappeared, and Gale was flooded with instant, blinding panic. He cried when he woke up and then didn’t sleep at all the next night. He blamed himself for being born wrong and saddling someone with himself. But his little heart couldn’t stop hoping, so he looked up at the stars on the second night and pleaded to them silently, to make life a little bit less painful. That’s when he saw a shooting star. Although he never really believed in these things, he wished on it. He wished that the one person nature meant for him would love him.

In the next few years, he and Bucky got closer and closer. Gale already knew that his feelings were not platonic when he was seventeen. But Bucky always boasted about his decidedly female conquests, so Gale accepted the next best thing - being best friends. He got together with Marge because they both knew they were waiting for someone else but they had a lot of love for each other regardless, and a lot of soulmates never meet, so they knew it wouldn’t be unreasonable to get married without a bond.

When Gale lost his virginity and told Bucky about it, he hoped that Bucky would say something about liking Gale romantically. In his most "foolish" fantasies, Gale imagined Bucky declaring his unconditional love to him. But Bucky kept focusing on Marge instead, so Gale took that as his final clue that nothing would ever happen between him and Bucky.

By the time they met in person, he had already made peace with it and accepted it.

So just imagine this wild discrepancy - Gale had already gone on a whole journey of unrequited love and then acceptance before Bucky had even considered that the feelings fluttering in him sometimes went beyond platonic. Bucky had internalized homophobia, so he was in denial for a long time, then fought himself to forget those "sinful" feelings.

This, we can already see from Bucky’s POV. How that attraction starts to defeat his resistance against it. From Gale’s POV, this process was like the sweetest torture, and the reawakening of a hope long dormant. But Bucky was taking too long, and Gale had had enough. They wouldn’t be able to get married and love each other freely anyway, even if Bucky changed his mind about staying only friends. So Gale decided to go through with his and Marge's plans and asked for her hand.

Bucky's reaction was really painful to him because he wanted Bucky so bad and like when they first dreamwalked, he wanted Bucky to come to him, but Bucky just circled around the issue. That’s when Gale snapped in the cinema.

In the next few months, he was determined to stick to the plan. Marry Marge and live his life in a safe relationship, which held a lot of love, even if lukewarm. But then - luckily for everyone involved - Marge met her soulmate. She and Gale broke up, and there was nothing tethering Gale to his acceptance of the status quo anymore. He was scared about what was going to happen, but Bucky kept giving him signs now, so his hope grew even more.

Then, Bucky kissed him. It made Gale so overwhelmingly happy that he felt torn open and vulnerable, so he hid in his attic in his dream. But Bucky came to him, and Gale finally felt like he could give all his love to him.

But, after everything he had been through, Gale couldn’t believe that Bucky’s feelings could be anything like his. He didn’t believe that anyone would love him unconditionally, so a part of him kept aching. Meanwhile, Bucky was just over the moon and falling in love, and the first shock came to him when he realized that Gale didn’t believe him when he said he loved Gale.

Then, the terrible realization of what would happen if they were shot down dawned on Gale and he started working on those barriers. When he was captured and decided to shut Bucky out, he sacrificed all his hopes and dreams and thought he lost his last chance of love too, because he was so sure that Bucky would lose the love he did feel for Gale if they had no bond.

But he was wrong. Bucky still loved him, because Bucky's love wasn’t something predetermined or something that depended on that bond, his love was for Gale himself, and it was unconditional. In his lowest moment in the stalag, Gale finally understands this, and that's how his biggest loss gave him everything he ever wanted.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

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The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

[ririsasy]

Let’s talk about the first kill

How heavy everything was for Deva, and also for Varadha, their circumstances, the land they were born into, their people and their way of lives, their fates and how they eventually have to turned into this demon at some point, like their ancestors who always long for fight and blood.

The way Deva was regretful at the outcome of what he had done, of what he became, looking down tearfully and pitifully, his eyes wondering around trying to grasp the reality of it all, finally it dawned on him about what just happened, almost like he came back to his sense after losing control and going auto-pilot in killing spree.

This must be his first kill ever, because when he escaped Khansaar he was just a young boy and I bet living with Amma he mustn’t gotten into trouble that he need to kill anybody, perhaps he had gotten into a fight with someone over some misunderstanding, after all he’s a strong big man, but I am sure he didn’t need to go as far as killing anyone in his path.

He was just a blacksmith, hard laborer that did honest job for a living just to get by, though he probably always sparring in his spare time, preparing for something, for a war that he was sure that one day he would be called to but more than that again he never really need to kill anyone before.

And yet after he landed in Khansaar, it didn’t take him a week to kill, even Deva himself felt it heavy in his soul, the rage that he had kept inside himself, he finally unleashed it and let it consumed him fully because that kind of beast has always been dormant inside of him, because this land awaits for him to spill blood.

The way Deva look up like he was asking the deity or anything at all above that might look over him, “is this who I truly am? Why you created me this way, are you listening? Do you condemn the path that I chose to seek justice?” And after that I think he made peace with who he was, closing his eye and believed that he didn’t do anything wrong, that his action was justified, his rage was justified and accepted the fact with new clarity that a vengeful angry demon in his veins is needed to cleanse this violent land, the symbolism wasn't lost on me either here that Deva was fully covered in blood like he was baptized in blood and rebirth into this new person.

Gone was his "innocent", he was ready now to take the path that's truly meant for him, a path that nobody dare to take because it will consume him and he might lost himself completely in this road, as Nietzsche said "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." This is never easy for Deva. It's going to take tolls in his soul.

That's why later on when got into 2017 present deva we got glimpse of him being haunted by himself, the demon that he saw on the mirror, that even he couldn't recognize it and is scared of that reflection, even his mother was aware of his presence that she tried her best to re-tame it again by forbidding him from even getting close to anything that could be used as a weapon because it could and would awaken the sleeping beast.

Let’s also observed Varadha’s reaction when he finally opened his eyes to see what Deva had done, what he finally became, he was at the brink of crying because this was the same overwhelming side of Deva that Varadha remembered when they were young.

Varadha knew that Deva had it in him to turn into this kind of fearsome man. Varadha remembered that memory as clear as a it was just happened yesterday how Deva could frightened him by the intensity of the things he could do even beyond Varadha’s wildest imagination. This man is untamable beast and Varadha just brought him back to the place that literally would make him lost control.

That’s why Varadha tearfully told him in prison later on that he wished he didn’t bring him back to Khansaar, he regretted his decision because what Khansaar would do to a man like Deva.

Varadha said he knew that this is how it would end once Deva came back to Khansaar, what he meant by that was that he knew that Deva wouldn’t be able to hold back the way Varadha had done for the past 25 years living amongst the beasts who basically do whatever they want in Khansaar because the law only applies to the weak while the lords and people in power is basically can do anything and people would close their eyes over it but not his Deva, Varadha knew it all too well the kind of man his deva is in the face of injustice.

Imagine how many many times Varadha was at his last straw that he almost couldn’t endure it and wish he could call Deva back to fix, to fight, to change the tide of Khansaar but he hold himself back thinking that Deva would do great anywhere else but not here in Khansaar, this place is evil, too volatile for Deva’s hot blood and not to mention the history of how his people was massacred in this exact same land, that’s why Varadha only brought Deva back when he literally see no way out, not for himself but for his brother, he called him to protect the only thing that Varadha deemed Valuable in his life, because nothing else left for him in Khansaar, Deva and his hope and his love and his everything, he had brought it all with him long time ago.

That’s why I think Baachi’s death that we all knew and speculated was by Deva’s hand turn Varadha into entirely different person. 😭

.

.

PS. Anyone who said that Prabhas didn't emot much as Deva then tell me about the innocent Deva that played with kids and a good son to his mother, the tortured soul Deva haunted by his past, the Deva that was so devoted to Varadha, the Deva that's possesive, the violence Deva, the soft hearted Deva that's basically always have tears in his eyes, those are all in one movie 😭 my man is giving his best and people be blind about all of this just because they like to judge too quickly without actually trying to understand the material fully first. 😓

[risingoftime]

can you do a riri fic where she says move your hand/ being aggressive during yk 🤭

𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖘 | 𝖗𝖎𝖗𝖎 𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

synopsis:  Riri had just returned to her hometown after her time at Wakanda and MIT. After her school year of stress, she’s looking forward to finally spending the summer with her childhood best friend. Yet, the feelings she ran away from all return once she’s with her again.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut, friends to lovers, implied cheating, fingering, softdom!riri, overstimulation, strap use!, min plot, cursing, multiple positions, strap riding, mutual orgasm.

18+ | minors do not interact

➴ feel free to send me more thots

The knocking on my window jolted me awake. Quickly wiping away the drool from my lips, I saw Riri staring back at me. I almost pushed her over when I whipped open the car door. Enfolding her in my arms, I squeezed her body close to mine and spun around. The scent wavering off her skin made me more entranced with Riri—a sweet vanilla and saffron cologne she always wore, her signature. Her head rested on my shoulder, and we stood momentarily until I pulled away to get a better look at my best friend. Riri had never been the girly type growing up. She used to always wear her hair out in a heap of curls and wore clothes that accentuated her masculine features. Riri claimed it was “easier” to wear loose clothing when working in the garage. Today, she kept her hair braided in straight-back cornrows, allowing me to see her face, unlike before. That wasn’t the only change that I noticed about her. She had a restless look, bags under her eyes and an unreadable emotion that I couldn’t place.

“I’ve missed you so much!” I shook her as I said so. Riri had just rolled her eyes in response with the same goofy smile she had when we were kids. “Yeah, I could see that. I waited at the terminal for almost an hour, ringing off your phone as you drooled on yourself.” Sneaking a peak at the time, I saw 4:47 pm flash across my iPhone. 

“I’m so sorry! How did you even find me?” 

“I can’t miss this bright ass red car you built with my Dad. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Is that the Cuda you’ve always been talking about? I didn’t know you finished  it.” Riri trailed her fingers on the car's tail and popped my trunk to begin putting her bags inside. The car has been my dream for as long as I can remember. It’s a 72 Plymouth Cuda that Mr. Williams and I restored to ride like new. I’ve spent my spare time outside university lecturers working in the shop. So this car was just a perk. 

“Yeah, and if you’ve been listening to me during our calls, you’d know that already.” 

I flicked Riri in the temple of her head, opened the passenger door for her to enter, and hopped in shortly after. Before starting the engine, I told her, “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

Riri took her time before driving to my house, and I expected nothing less. From the looks of it, Riri needed those moments with her family to unwind. Either way, it gave me more time to prepare for her to sleep over. Since she’s been gone, I’ve moved into my parent's basement after they renovated the house. So not only did I have a bigger room, but I also had a living space and my bathroom away from my younger siblings, which meant more privacy when I had company. And I wanted Riri all to myself tonight without interruption, to talk, of course. 

I don’t know when I developed feelings for Riri, but I assume they had always laid dormant, waiting patiently to be known. It arose during our first goodbye when Riri had to leave for MIT. My throat felt thick, like it was hard to swallow, and my chest hurt at the sight of her packed bags in front of her house. The feeling was foreign to me as I had never felt strongly about anyone in that way before. Not even for my past ex-boyfriends. I never truly cared who came and left as long as I had Riri by my side. So naturally, when she left for school, I was distraught. I tried to convince her to stay in our city and work for our Dad’s mechanic shop, but I knew in my heart that she was destined for more. Her mind was one of her best qualities. Since she was a child, it was unmistakable that Riri was a scientific protege. I couldn’t live with myself if I were the reason why she never went after her dreams and aspirations. Yet now, as she came back home for summer break, I was unsure how I would go another year without her near. 

I waited patiently in my living room and assessed the space around me. I lit candles, and Riri’s favourite snacks, hidden from my curious siblings, were now perfectly arranged on my coffee table. Since childhood, we’ve been inseparable, literally. Both of our Dads had been best friends since college and decided to move their families to the same neighbourhood. Riri and I ended up doing everything together because of it. We went to the same school, played in the same soccer league, visited our Dads at their mechanic shop, and rode our bikes whenever the weather allowed. Sunday dinners would either be at hers or mine, and if we were lucky, we could convince our parents to let us order takeout. I can’t remember a time as a kid without Riri not being too far behind. She captivated all of my dearest memories. I felt the same—nerves and excitement from the airport. Riri would be here any minute now, and I couldn’t stop watching the clock. Our calls and texts had been less frequent this year as Riri’s workload and responsibilities were never-ending, making me even more impatient to see her finally. 

Heavy footsteps descended the staircase, and I instantly knew who it was before I could see the face behind the wall. “Riri, I still don’t understand how you’re 5ft and walk as if you’re a grown man,” I laughed. Riri looked down at her feet-covered Nike socks once she entered the basement and shrugged nonchalantly before making a beeline toward the snacks on the table. Her eyes instantly lit up once she saw the arrangements of sweet and sour candy from our childhood.  

“No way! I didn’t even know these were still sold in stores,” she squealed. 

Riri hugged me before opening the snacks, beginning with the gummy worms. She sorted the candies by colour, leaving two piles for her and me. I never minded this because they all tasted similar to me, but not Riri; she’s always adamant about them tasting different. Reaching forward, I grabbed one from what I assumed was my pile, which Riri claimed to dislike. 

“Cheers?” I turned to her on the couch, holding the worm in my hand to reach her halfway, and bumped mine against hers before biting off the gummy. 

“I never understood why we always used to do that as kids. Looking back, we thought it was so cool, but it’s corny now that we’re older” Riri smiled in between bites and held a handful of the worms in her lap. Although she appeared to be different, deep down, Riri was still the person I called my best friend. 

“Aren’t all traditions a bit corny?” I asked. 

“I guess… But what did I miss while I was gone? You said we needed to catch up.” 

Stretching out my legs in front of me, I reached forward to grab the wine bottle and poured myself a glass. “Yeah, we do. But first, you need to tell me why you’ve been MIA at MIT. It’s not like you not return my calls or texts. And now? You show up like everything is normal. Did you forget I know you like the back of my hand?” I raised my eyebrow at Riri, beckoning her to respond. She pursed her lips as if she was in deep thought about what to say. The silence stretched between us until she broke. 

“I wish I could tell you, I do. Just know that I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you. Can we call it even? It’s not like you haven’t done the same in the past.”

“Speaking of, how’s Jayden?”  The smirk on her face returned when she brought up my ex. 

“First of all, Jayden and I are irrelevant; second of all, why do you keep changing the subject? Does this have something to do with Princess Shuri visiting your dorms?” 

“How did you find out about that?” Riri exclaimed. Her body turned frigid, and her posture was upright and tense. She was unaware when others kept tabs on her, probably how she got involved with Wakandan royalty. 

“You’re roommate MJ told me. I still have her number from when I visited you last time.” The bitter taste remained in my mouth from having to go as low as contacting Riri’s MIT friends to know why she had been airing my calls. After all, I’m her best friend. I should know about what’s going on in her life. But, instead, time and distance felt like it was driving us further apart. It felt like a knife had stabbed me in my chest. 

“Look, I would’ve told you everything if I could. It’s just complicated,” Riri sighed. 

“Yeah, I know you would. I was just worried about you. Next time, give me a heads up before you disappear like that again.” 

“You were worried about me?” Her facial features perked up at the thought. 

“Of course, I worry about you! You drove me to the point of tracking down your fucking roommate. That’s such a stupid question to ask me, Riri.” To my surprise, the girl had the nerve to laugh. 

“It’s so hard for me to take you seriously when you talk like that. You’re cute when you’re upset.” 

“I won’t be so cute when I shove my foot up your ass.” The smile on her face grew more prominent, and what was said next made my mouth drop in shock. 

“Careful. I might be into that shit.” 

I felt my heart race at the thought of what kinks Riri might have. She’s never been the most forthcoming about her sexual escapades. Riri hasn’t ever told me about her dating life. I just always assumed she didn’t have one. But her comment piqued my interest. 

“Oh really, so what are you into? MJ?” I asked. 

“MJ has a boyfriend, and what I like… I don’t think that she could handle that.”

 I narrowed my eyes at her, “handle what? Riri, you’re 5ft.” Her legs were spread out before her, taking up more space as she got comfortable. It was playful banter, but I could feel my head spinning from our conversation's whirlwind and the implications of Riri’s sexual escapades. I wasn’t used to being on the other side of this. Usually, I would be the one spilling all of the juicy secrets. A part of me was bothered that she had another life that she had never alluded to. One that was kept between the sheets. 

“You'd be surprised. I could make you forget about that sorry ass Jayden’s name.” Her cockiness always ticked me off, yet now I was outright embarrassed. I had been more than forthcoming with Riri about Jay’s weak ass stroke game, and now she was throwing it back in my face. 

“It wasn’t like he was that memorable anyways,” I retorted. I ignored Riri’s suggestion, unsure if it was wise to venture and explore that side of our relationship. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed the tension or stolen glances that were exchanged between us. I was just scared to make the first move.

 “And I doubt you could have me hooked on you just like that. For all I know, you’re a holy virgin.” I held a poker face to conceal my beating heart and the jittery nerves that kept my body on edge. Riri’s eyes raked over my body, and suddenly my clothing felt invisible. 

“Give me five minutes. That’s all I need to get you begging for me.”

 Picturing what Riri’s hands were capable of with me underneath her. I’ve watched her work in the shop, observing how her nimble fingers can reach all the tricky spots to complete a job. I couldn't help but now wonder what they were capable of.  I bit my lip to distract myself from the oncoming images that shadowed my rational thoughts.

“Five minutes,” she repeated, “and I'll compensate for all the stress I caused.” 

Riri could tell my mind was turning and debating what to say next. She closed the space between us. I looked down at our legs and how hers brushed against mine. With every move, Riri had made my body even more hyper-aware of what would happen. Her fingers trailed along my legs, hinting at her intentions. My breath hitched at the contact. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had sex or a good fuck. Jayden was a pretty boy but wasn’t good for anything else but to look at. He kept me company for the time being until what I wanted flew in. Now that it was in front of me, I was unsure if I had the confidence to take it. 

“If we do this, Riri, I can’t forget it happened.” 

“Neither can I, and I don’t want to.”  Riri’s hand brushed against my cheek, and my breath hitched as her face approached nearer. I could smell the candy on her, the sugar remnants still on Riri’s lips. I craved to know what it would feel like to be the one who could lick it off. I felt the familiar wet spot between my legs from the mere thought of having Riri’s body against mine. Once her lips met mine, all my thoughts drifted away and were replaced by lustful impulses. It began soft and tentative, as if we were kids again, unsure of the other. Riri’s full lips were unbelievably soft as I lightly bit her bottom lip, encouraging her to open up further for my tongue to slip inside. The taste of sugar invigorated my senses, awakening every cell in my body and urging me to wrap my arms around Riri’s waist. I pressed myself towards her until our bodies were flushed against each other. I was practically on top of her at this point. I only paused between our heated makeout to bring my legs on either side of Riri to straddle her. I had been so distracted earlier that I hadn’t noticed the bulge between her legs. My mind began to reel at the realization of what it might be that I was feeling underneath me. Moving my hips in search of any friction that it could provide, I could feel myself begin to feel desperate, almost ready to beg for Riri to rub her fingers along my pussy. 

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” I said, sounding husky and breathless. 

Riri nodded in response and picked me up to stand upright from the couch. I guided her along the corridor to my room, and she wasted no time throwing me onto the bed. My eyes were wide from the shock of her strength. I noted how her back flexed when she removed her sweater and the light happy trail that led down to the band of her boxers once she turned to face me. My eyes lingered on the outline of her strap. Riri’s gaze met mine, then smirked, clearly aware of where I was looking. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Slowly, I lifted my shirt to reveal the pushup bra underneath. Stealing a glance at Riri, I could decipher the temptation and desire that lay dormant as she licked her lips. She looked as if she was ready to pounce at any second, making me want to move aggravatingly slowly. I tried to make her wait like she had done to me. Moving to the edge of the bed, I discarded the pants I wore onto the floor. I looked up at Riri for a sign of what may happen next. She stood between my legs and brought her hand to wrap around my neck, forcing my head back. I had completely submitted myself to her, trusting her fully. Riri applied pressure on either side of my neck, and when my mouth parted from the new sensation, she connected her lips to mine and slipped her tongue inside—breathing in each other’s air as her fingers circled the thin fabric that barely kept my lower lips covered. Riri’s fingertips rubbed my clit in an aggravatingly slow motion. I bucked my hips forward, urging her to increase her speed. At this moment, I didn’t want anything more than to be consumed by Riri’s presence. 

“Open your legs wider,” Riri commanded. 

I did as I was told, pushing my thighs further apart to permit more accessible access to my throbbing center. Riri dived deeper, teasing the entrance of my pussy, only allowing a fraction of her index and middle finger to thrust inside. The moan that escaped from me was sinful. 

“Riri, please” 

“Please, what?” she replied. 

“Please stop playing with me” My voice came out a pitch higher and sounded whiny. 

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

Riri repositioned herself so that her bottom half was flush against mine while she moved her fingers further inside. She used her hips to guide her hand to apply pressure. I could feel myself get wetter the longer she continued. The sounds of my pussy filled the room, leaving no secret to what was happening in my bedroom. Riri left sloppy kisses on my collarbone to my neck until she reached my ear, only pausing to whisper, “Can I put it in?” I knew what she was referring to and nodded my head. I didn’t trust myself to be able to get the words out. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” Frustration briefly overtook me, and I was reminded that I was telling my childhood best friend to fuck me. I suddenly felt shy as I said, “Yes, Riri, please put it in.” 

“See, now, was that so hard to say?” 

I didn’t answer her question and watched Riri instead as she removed her pants and briefs to reveal an opaque pink dildo attached to her strap. Not the colour that I was expecting, but the size surprised me. It could’ve at least been 7 inches bigger than Jayden, that’s for sure. Riri held the pink dick in her hand and slowly glided it along my pussy, taking extra time to rub the tip against my clit before lowering it inside and stretching me out. Riri went slow at first until her full length was inside. My legs had already begun to shake from the new sensation that I felt from the girth of the dildo. 

“How does it feel, baby?” Riri began to grind her hips while thrusting in and out of my pussy. Her pace remained unhurried. She was enjoying watching my facial expressions with a sultry smile. When I didn’t respond immediately, Riri began increasing her tempo, and I couldn’t silence the escaping moan. “Fuck- so good,” I sighed.  She kept pounding inside me until my broken cries turned into gasps. I slyly moved my hands down to her torso to slow her down. Instead, Riri grabbed my hands and pinned them down onto the mattress. 

“C'mon, you can take it.” Riri’s lips hovered over mine, keeping eye contact throughout. I am completely and utterly lost in her trance. I’m convinced she wants to leave her mark, leave me so drunk off of her that I wouldn’t be able to think of glancing at another man. “Riri, I can’t; I’m going to cum” I whispered. I sigh into her kiss as Riri swirls her tongue around mine and wraps my legs around her waist to lock her closer. She released my hands to wrap her arms around me and flipped us over in the bed, so I was now on top of her. 

“Ride it out, baby girl” Riri kept her hands around my waist to keep me in place. I took my time to adjust to the new position that she had put us in and bobbed my hips on the strap, loving how deep it could go and fill my hole. I began desperately grinding in search of more. It brought felicity that I had not known before, so intensely that I hadn’t noticed how loud I was getting with each movement. “Shhh, baby,” Riri growled. “Shit,” we didn’t have the house to ourselves. I bit my lip as a reminder to remain quiet while I felt the orgasm take over me and my fluids slipping down onto the harness she wore. My core began to contract, and my legs began to tremble as I whimpered in her ear. “I’m cumming, Riri.” 

"Yeah?" Riri planted her feet on the mattress, balancing myself on top of her before she began thrusting upwards. 

“I’m not done yet,” she said. 

My pussy gripped around her as she kissed my G-spot with each thrust, pushing me to my next peak. "I can feel it on my clit" Her low voice was shaky, and it turned me on even more at the thought of her getting off from fucking me and using me like a toy. It sent a wave of urgency and need to make her cum. I was pinned against her and unable to free myself from her grip. “Keep bouncing on it, baby” Riri’s mouth was open agape, and she struggled to keep her eyes open as her small sighs of euphoria became moans. “Mmph.” Riri was unrelenting in chasing her high. My pussy got wetter from watching her face conform to a blissed-out state. 

“I’m so close, don’t move” Her voice was staggered and pleading. 

“Me too,” I replied. 

The last thing I saw was Riri’s eyes rolling back until my orgasm overtook me. I didn’t care who would hear as we moaned in each other’s mouths, breathing in the same air. My head spun out from cumming so hard. Riri’s legs collapsed, making the bed squeak from the sudden movement. When I opened my eyes, Riri analyzed me with a peaceful expression. 

“What? Why are you staring at me?” I asked. 

“You’re so beautiful” She smiled the same smile that she had at the airport earlier. I gave her a side eye and tried to shake my body off her, but her firm hold on me remained. 

“Aren’t you going to let me go?” I asked. 

“Not after you gave me great sex like that. I’m ready to go for round two,” Riri stated. 

“Round two?” I shrieked.

It was apparent that what had just occurred between us was longer than five minutes, but I couldn’t stop. Once I kissed Riri, I had already gained an insatiable appetite for her. I was left yearning for more and more. While lying there with Riri, I wondered what had I gotten myself into? 

[theblueflower05]

You Get Me So High

Drabble in the First Love/Late Spring series

A/N: A little bit of a filler- I just wanted an excuse to fit this little scene into this story. It didn't fit in the last part but I loved it too much to let it go.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: FLUFF(I know we’re all surprised, but I need a break from the angst) Minors can interact with this one. PG-13 forsure.

Summary: You unearth a gift that you forgot to give your mate. A small peek into You and Neteyam’s slow mornings. Domestic bliss and herbal tea flavored kisses. Neteyam x Reader

If you want to catch up on how we got here, here's the Series Masterlist

Previous&lt;: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

The morning eclipse washes over Awa’atlu, drenching it in the striking colors of the peaking sun. The sea glitters, awake before the village. Never ceasing its constant, rhythmic movement even as the people still lay dormant, tucked in tight with their loved ones.

Your status in the clan and the duties that came with it had always forced you into being an early riser, though there is nothing you loved more than digging yourself deep into your bed and slumbering for as long as possible.

You loved being comfy, feeling safe. Got stuck in behind your eyelids, in that hazy peace that only moments before the dawn could bring. Many times Ronal had dragged you from the family Mauri, huffing about the late hour and fretting with your unruly hair.

You don't wake to the hustle and bustle of your childhood home anymore.

It had been that way for the past month or so. Fertility Season had come and gone, and you and Neteyam had spent the time after adjusting to the new normal.

Both of you had grown up in loud, full homes. Surrounded by family, never a moment of quiet to be found. The still silence in your shared Mauri had been a bit unnerving at first. It was just the two of you in these walls after all.

Now though, you craved these moments. They felt private and sacred as you and Neteyam prepared for the day, for the long hours usually chalked full of duties that would keep you busy and separated.

Your mate is a man of routine, you’d picked up on the fact quickly.

He woke as soon as light begin to dance in the many sun catchers and wind chimes that littered the entrance to your Pod. Once the Fkio(birds,gulls) began to squall, he was rising. Gently untangling his limbs from your own and hurrying over to the firepit to bring it back to life.

He’d open all of the blinds to let the air in, the salty ocean breeze filling the space with a freshness that could only come with a new day.

Then comes washing up, changing into a clean tweng and re-adorning all of his jewelry, leaving the intricate battle band and layered choker for last. He liked it when you helped him fasten all of those hard-to-reach ties.

He brews strong tea in the clay pot that his mom had passed down to him. It reminds him of the ones that his grandmother had kept in her hut. Extremely detailed, crafted by an Omaticaya Ceramist. Jade green in color, jungle flowers etched into its sides.

Neteyam lets you get your fill of slumber. Enjoys watching you as you doze, curled up on the bed mat. Your features loose and lost to dreams, occasionally tensing with off scrunches or your nose or twitches of your ears. It’s only when the sun reaches a certain place in the sky that he goes to wake you. Knowing he can wait no longer before you’re late.

You love to sleep, but you absolutely hate being late.

His difficult little munxtate(wife).

He’s so gentle, every time.

Rousing you with soft touches and hums right into your skin. Even before you’re fully coherent you reach for him, greedy fingers. Pursed lips.

The piping hot tea is energizing, you nurse your cup as you go through your own little patterns.

Neteyam knows, now, that you are not particularly chatty until you’ve fully woken up. He doesn't mind the comfortable quiet, busies himself with cleaning his riding gear, readying for a day of patrolling and hunting.

You prepare a quick breakfast before bathing and dressing. Easily clocking the way Neteyam’s amber gaze fixes on your hips when you shimmy into your skirt. Reach behind yourself to twine the strings around your tail. Heat blooms across your cheeks, it’s too early for him to look at you like that. He grins when you roll your eyes and mutter something that sounds a lot like “insatiable skxawng”

The two of you have been working on getting everything organized, and the Mauri is finally coming together. Homey and colorful, filled with little trinkets and pieces of both of your cultures. You were still working on cataloging your wardrobe, untangling the many dangling tops and layered necklaces- it was a pain and you really needed to make time to get it done.

So focused on getting your herbs straightened, prioritizing assisting your heavily pregnant Aunt with healer’s errands that you’d honestly put it off.

It’s your own fault that you need to untangle the top you want to wear from various other pieces of jewelry. You can't be frustrated with anyone but yourself, you fingers work at the knots until you free the article of clothing.

You’re working the crocheted straps over your shoulders when it catches your eye.

Gleams in a beam of sunlight that streams in from the opened windows.

A low gasp escapes you as you reach for it fast.

Between the emotional chaos that had come with the misunderstanding between yourself, Neteyam and Seychelle and then haze of Fertility Season, you’d forgotten.

In the quick paced move into the new Mauri- it had been lost, buried in the messy overfilled baskets of your belongings.

It’s the armband that you’d made for Neteyam.

You enjoy making jewelry, liked the way it kept your hands from being idle. Could string delicate shells into a multitude of necklaces and bracelets and hairpieces that made good gifts for family and friends. There were villagers with more talent than you at the craft, sure, but you thought your creations were pretty enough.

This particular piece had given you a run for your money.

You'd wanted to make something that would remind him of home but the jewelry that the Sully’s wore were extremely intricate, daunting to even look at. The Omiticaya are known for their weaving skills after all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’d enlisted the youngest Sully to help you, a bit too shy to share the planned project with anyone else. Tuk loved crafting, frequently giving her creations to any and everyone. She had been thrilled when you approached her, practically shaking with excitement when you promised to take her out to the distant sandbars by Ilu back in exchange for her help.

Omiticayan patterns are hard to master, complex and layered. Leather isn't a medium you usually worked with and your fingers had felt clumsy as you’d attempted the multi strand braiding.

Tuk is patient and friendly. A brilliant teacher even at her young age. She’d spent hours tucked away on that private beach with you. Chattering excitedly as you began to pick it up and the band starts to take shape.

“Who’re you making it for?” She’d questioned, pressing in that innocent, instant way that only a child could “I don't see anyone here wear jewelry like this, it's all so different from back home”

“Just for a friend” You’d paused for a moment, staring down at your slow working fingers. “I think these designs are beautiful, you’ll have to help me make more. I want an anklet just like yours”

She’d beamed, happy to show off the dangling jewels on her feet. She’d made it herself! She could make you one to match, easy!

Only when the horns had sounded, dinner going to start soon, did the two of you gather your belongings and head back in. Tuk had told her parents she would be with you, Jake and Neytiri had deemed you responsible enough to get her back safely. You wouldn't disappoint.

“I hope your friend likes it, Y/N! See ya tomorrow! Don’t be late- you promised we’d race to the sandbar! You can't go back on a promise!” She’d called to you as you’d reached the village, running off in a flurry. Energetic as ever.

“I would never! Get ready to lose, Tuktirey!”

Her twinkling laugh all the response she’d given you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’d worked so hard on the band. Meticulously incorporated pieces of shells into the leather. Turquoise, carnelian and topaz toned, to match the beads of Neteyam's choker. The shells were hard to find, but you’d scoured the shore for days, discarding the ones that weren't the right color.

A large blush colored pearl hangs from the center, the patterns of the banding circling it in delicate loops.

You run your fingers over it, recalling how much hard work you’d put into it. How many hours you’d spend having to undo and we braid the patterns-

You plop down next to your mate, near the fire. Legs criss crossed neatly and an eager smile on your face. Clutching something hidden in your fist.

“What?” Neteyam wonders as he eats his breakfast. He’d quickly become fond of the milky sweet rice and fruit that you made in the mornings, he shovels it eagerly into his mouth every time.

“I have a present for you”

That was the last thing he was expecting to hear. His eyebrows raise and his tail flicks, interested, behind him.

“Really?” he speaks with his mouth still full. He’s endearing, even when he’s gross.

“Yes, I am very late. I meant to give it to you long ago. But with the move and everything else it got lost. So lost, you’ve seen the chest where I keep my clothing. It really is a mess” you wave your free hand in the air, gesturing almost wildly as you ramble”- ugh. I forgot, I truly did”

He waits patiently throughout your little special, a small smile on his lips.

“You didn't need to get me anything…” he says, but you can see the concealed intrigue in his eyes. Dare you say it was excitement?

You're a bit nervous as you open your hand, revealing the contents inside, resting against your palm. Holding it out to him in offering. “I wanted to. Here, I really hope you like it”

Neteyam takes the armband between his thin fingers, brings it close to his face to inspect it. The whole time your heart races wildly and you stare at him for any inclination that he might not like it-

“Did you make this?”

“I did” you nod.

“But it’s- it’s Omiticayan design? How did you do this?”

“Oh, I know. It’s why it’s a little bit rough- I’d never made anything like it before. But Tuk was tons of help! She pretty much walked me through it all. We did it months ago but like I told you, I misplaced it”

Neteyam continues to stare at it, his eyes swimming with emotion. He runs his thumb along the weaved leather, over and over again. “The pearl?..”

“The one you found at the beach, in the clam, remember? You gave it to me but I wanted you to be able to keep it. I wasn't lying when I said they’re good luck when they’re that big”

His eyes go from the gift in his hand, meet yours instead. They’re shining. Happy, clearly and a grin breaks out across your face, able to read the wordless que's.

“Get over here” Neteyam reaches for you, hand cupping your face as he clutches you to him, almost right into his empty lap. Claims your willing lips with his own.

The kisses are smothering, consistent little pecking that makes you gasp. He tastes like creamy rice and sweet Yovo- you can feel his canines as he grin. Your hands tangle into his braids, clutching him right back. Your stomach flip flopping with the sheer joy of it all.

“You like?” you’re muffled by his lips, speak the question into his mouth.

“I” kiss “Love” kiss “It”

He doesn't bother to pull away until he's kissed you stupid. Long and thorough. Your head is spinning and theres butterflies erupting in your chest. Your lips feel a bit raw as you pant and lean against him heavily.

“I can't believe you took the time to do this. You are the sweetest, you know. So sweet to me I don't even know what to do with you” He beams and your heart skips one beat. And then two. His smile is a bright thing, his front teeth just a bit longer then the rest-

You hope your children look like him. You wish you could have seen him as a little one.

You caress his face, knuckling lightly at his cheeks. Watching, your hindbrain lighting up, as he slips the band up his arm until it sits snug around his bulging bicep, secured tight.

It looks so good.

You have the urge to make him endless ornaments. Maybe you'll start something for his hair? You could probably find feathers similar to the ones he wore now...

Everytime you think that you couldn't possibly get any happier, you do. You think that you might float away one day- filled to the brim with all of the buoyant love you have for him.

“Thank you, really Y/N. I-” his voice wavers a bit as your nose rubs against his. You’re content like this, in his lap. Pressed in close with your lover. “I don't know how I lived so many years without you. You bring me joy I didn't know existed”

His words echo your frequent thoughts.

The morning is soft and syrupy slow, like all mornings spent with your mate.

Waking up early did have its perks, after all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So Neteyam’s sisters X Y/N are some of my favorite dynamics. I can’t wait to write more Tuk & Kiri.

I got some asks after Part Three and I was like ohhhh no, everyone thinks they’re toxic but they’re really not lol they just need to learn how to not be idiots and communicate with each other.

Can we talk about how Y/N's love language is offering her self up to Neteyam on a silver plate? I'm pretty sure that could be translated to Gift Giving.

I’m thinking about doing a little filler/drabble like this every few chapters as a kind of pallet cleanser? There’s just so much about this world and these characters that I want to share with you all.

Also mango sticky rice is my absolute favorite and I’m a green tea girly. Of course I had to incorporate them somewhere😂

What are some of your favorite things that you’d like to see in this universe? Let me know!